K 




Glass _TLS? Q>S3 

PRESENTED BY 




EDWARD AVERY BUMPUS 



jfor tfje lobe I Dear mg oeao 




AND 

AS A TESTIMONY TO THE COURAGE AND DEVOTION OF 

THE COMRADES WHO, WITH HIM, GAVE THEIR 

LIVES TO THEIR COUNTRY 

THIS TRIBUTE IS DEDICATED 

2Ea tfje Jfflemotg of tng Son 
EDWARD AVERY BUMPUS 

FIRST LIEUTENANT COMPANY C, NINTH UNITED 

STATES INFANTRY 

'&no of |)ts Companions in ^Irtna 

CAPTAIN THOMAS W. CONNELL 
SURGEON RICHARD S. GRISWOLD 

AND THE MEMBERS OF HIS COMPANY WHO WERE KILLED 
28 SEPTEMBER igOI 

IN THE ISLAND OF SAMAR, P.I. 




.7 



■5f NORWOOD PRESS "5f 

J. S. CUSHING * CO. — BERWICK & SMITH 
ft NORWOOD MASS. U.S.A. -Jfr 



7 






IRoll of Ibonor 



Company C, Ninth United States Infantry 



Killed. — Captain Thomas W. Connell ; First-Lieutenant Edward A. 
Bumpus; Major-Surgeon Richard S. Griswold; Sergeants John F. Martin and 
James M. Randies ; Corporals Henry J. Scharer and Frank McCormack ; 
Artificer Joseph R. Marr ; Privates Joseph I. Godon, James Martin, John W. 
Aydelotte, Byron Dent, Eli Fitzgerald, Charles E. Sterling, Robert Sproull, 
John H. Miller, Richard Long, Joseph Turner, Gustav F. Schnitzler, Proal 
Peters, Leonard P. Schley, James F. McDermott, Charles E. Davis, Harry M. 
Wood, John Wannebo, Joseph O. Kleinhampl, Robert L. Booth, Guy C. 
Dennis, John D. Armani, Litto Armani, George Bony, John D. Buhrer, James 
L. Cain, Frank Vobayda, and Charles Powers. 

Died from Wounds received in Action. — Corporal Thomas E. 
Baird ; Privates Chris F. Recard, Floyd J. Shoemaker, Daniel S. Mullins, and 
Cornelius F. Donahue. 

Missing Bodies, probably burned when Insurgents deserted 

Town Musician John L. Covington; Privates Patrick J. Dobbins, Jerry J. 

Driscoll, Evans South, August F. Porczeng, Christian S. Williams, Claud C. 
Wingo ; Harry Wright, Hospital Corps. 

Wounded. — Sergeant George F. Markley, cut in several places; Corpo- 
ral James Pickett, wounded in abdomen, serious ; Corporal Taylor B. Hick- 
man, cut in the head ; Henry Claas, wounded in back, serious ; Ernest U. 
Ralston, severe ; Henry W. Manire, wounded in arm, serious ; John Uhtop, 
wounded in chest, serious ; George E. Meyers, wounded in back, slight ; Ser- 
geant John D. Closson, scalp, ear, severe ; Albert B. Keller, hip, severe ; 
Charles F. Marak, wounded in arm, moderate ; William J. Gibbs, moderate ; 
Melvin M. Walls, wounded in chest, slight ; Corporal Arnold Irish, wounded 
in shoulder, moderate ; Elbert B. DeGraffenreid, ear, severe ; Clifford M. 
Mumby, elbow, slight ; Sergeant Frank Betron, wounded in thigh, slight ; 
Adolph Gamlin, wounded in head, serious ; Richard Considine, elbow, slight ; 
Corporal Sylvester Burke, eye, slight ; George Allen, ringer, slight ; Carl E. 
Swanson, stabbed in the body. 

Not Wounded. — Privates Roland Clark, Anthony Thermistocles Quia, 
and Walter J. Berthold. 



"The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldiers' last tattoo ; 
No more on life's parade shall meet 

That brave and fallen few. 
On Fame's eternal camping ground 

Their silent tents are spread, 
And Glory guards with solemn round 

The bivouac of the dead. 

"Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead 7 

Dear as the blood ye gave. 
No impious footstep here shall tread 

The herbage of your grave. 
Nor shall your glory be forgot 

While Fame Iter record keeps, 
Or Honor points the hallowed spot 

Where Valor proudly sleeps." 




CAPTAIN THOMAS W. CONNELL 



Captain tlbomas WL. Connell 



THE deep regret which the tragic fate of Captain 
Connell roused in the brother officers of the young 
man testified clearly in what esteem he was held by 
those who had large opportunity to learn his qualities. This 
regret has been expressed in the warmest terms ; and not 
only by his brother officers, but by people in every walk of 
life, who at one period or another came into contact with 
him. This universal esteem displayed itself as candidly in 
the latest as in his earliest acquaintances. It proves how 
honestly the young officer walked along the lines marked out 
for him by his nature and his training. 

What he showed himself in the campaign and the battle, he 
had already been in his school days. At De La Salle Insti- 
tute, from which he departed in 1889 to enter West Point, 
the professors and students knew him as a hardy, cheerful, 
manly boy, to whom the chivalrous spirit seemed as natural as 
his good humor. These earliest friends were not surprised 
at the good name which he earned in the army for capacity 
and good-fellowship. The surprise would have been in his 
failure to achieve a distinction so in harmony with his fine 
qualities. His success in the competitive examinations for 
entrance to the Military Academy proved his mental ability. 
He had not only to reach the set standard, but to win against 
clever contestants. 

His career at West Point was honorable. His pastor 
writes of him to the afflicted parents : " In your great sorrow 
b 1 



it must be consoling for you to feel that all who knew your 
dear son loved him for his tender, gentle, genial, kindly, 
lovable character. Of all the young Catholics who graduated 
from West Point since I have been rector here, there is none 
for whom I had more esteem and affection. Believe me, my 
grief at his death is only second to your own." The second 
value of this strong tribute is that it expresses the general 
feeling among his friends at the Academy. 

He took to campaigning and fighting with the sturdy 
good-will and genial readiness for which his race is famous 
the world over. His fine physique enabled him to bear hard- 
ships, and his daring nature urged him to the front. He had 
his share in the Cuban campaign, both of hardship and of 
fighting, and came out of it with honors ; with the campaign- 
ing spirit so well developed that from that day he had his 
fill of the peril and duty of dangerous war. He fought 
through the arduous campaign in China. Just what sort of 
a soldier he was can be gathered from the hearty praise of 
Colonel Charles Coolidge, now commanding the 7th Infantry 
in Vancouver. 

I had learned to know him and to love him [writes Colonel Cool- 
idge] during the intimacy of our life in China, on the march, in the 
bivouac, on the field of battle. He had served with me in the Philip- 
pines, and became my battalion adjutant when we went to China. 
When, after the battle of Tientsin, Captain Noyes was wounded, I 
took your son as my acting regimental adjutant; he continued to 
serve as such through the terrible march to Peking, the battle of 
Yangtoun, and the assault on the imperial city of Peking ; although 
he was in a critical condition, produced by the climatic changes of 
that country, and really ought never to have started out with us ; but 
his grit and determination pulled him through. His services to me at 
the battle of Yangtoun were inestimable, and cannot be explained by 
mere words. Every inch a soldier, ever attentive to his duty, cool 
and courageous in the hour of danger, courteous and kind in his 
dealings with every one, overloaded with social qualities, yet ever 



modest of his own accomplishments, he endeared himself to all his 
companions, and none knew him but to love him. In Peking last 
winter there was no more general favorite in the American army, or 
with the English and German officers, than Tommy Connell of the 
Ninth. 

What praise could go beyond this splendid testimony? 
From China Captain Connell returned to the Philippines, 
and resumed active duty in the dangerous district where 
death came to him through the treachery of native officials, 
supposedly friends. His death matched his life; he died 
fighting. No nobler epitaph could be written on the tomb 
of a soldier. In his youth, — for he was only twenty-nine, — 
honored by the affection and esteem of friends and superiors, 
with a bright prospect before him, the young soldier gave his 
life up to duty. 

What a bitter grief to the father and mother whose lives 
centred in him ! It was one of his finest qualities, that no 
separation by time or distance ever took from the tenderness 
which he felt for the two who loved him most. He was 
especially his mother's boy, devoted to her, full of admiration 
for her, from first to last her thoughtful and loyal son. The 
anguish of his dying was less for himself than for the ever- 
lasting grief which the tragedy would bring to the mother's 
heart. Poor and grief-stricken mother ! But what an honor 
and a consolation to be mother to such a son ! 

When time has taken the bitterness from sorrow, and 
affection can remember what lies beyond its own loss, the 
memory of this fine soldier will appear through the mists of 
grief and doubt beautiful and significant. It may have 
needed that lofty and yet mournful death to bring the life 
nearer to those who held it dear. In the light of the tragedy 
it is found that his life was of one piece, consistent through- 
out, lovely, honorable, brave ; and the end of it could only be 
the same. We do not value our own until death has set its 



seal upon them. Grief gives them an artificial value then, 
but time soon removes it. Captain Connell's life led up to 
his noble death. What a stimulus that story will be to all 
that read and hear it ! What an inspiration to the boys in 
school and Academy, who are preparing to walk that road of 
duty and danger! What honor will his career shed upon 
the family that owned him, the army which claimed him, the 
Academy which trained him, the schools which developed 
his fine qualities ; most of all upon that faithful and mourning 
woman who treasures up in her heart the memories of his 
infancy, childhood, youth, the confidences of his manhood ; 
the little things which only God and the mother can 
remember. 

Resignation will dry the bitterest tears. When the hour 
of sorrow is past, hearts will beat with pride that life and 
death brought him such honor. He lives yet in the presence 
of the Great Captain, and his beloved shall meet him again. 
For what remains, let our prayers follow him, and our tears 
keep his memory fresh in our souls. 



IRicbarb Sill ©dswolb, Jr. 



RICHARD SILL GRISWOLD was born in Water- 
bury, Conn., the 15th of November, 1869. He was 
educated at the Black Hall School of Lyme ; studied 
medicine at the Yale Medical School ; and graduated at the 
Bellevue Medical College of New York City in 1896. He 
practised medicine in Hartford, Conn., and was commissioned 
as first lieutenant and assistant surgeon of the Connecticut 
National Guards in January, 1898. He resigned this posi- 
tion to accept the same rank and commission with the 
First Regiment of Connecticut Volunteer Infantry, serving 
until the regiment was mustered out of service October 31, 
1898. During the Spanish War he was stationed at Niantic, 
Conn., Plumb Island, N.Y., and at various camps in Virginia 
and Pennsylvania. 

He was commissioned as first lieutenant and assistant 
surgeon of United States Volunteers July 5, 1899, and 
assigned to the Twenty-sixth Regiment of Infantry at Platts- 
burg, N.Y. He sailed with the regiment from San Fran- 
cisco, Cal., September 25, 1899, and arrived at Manila 
October 24, 1899, remaining on duty with the regiment 
in Panay, P.I., and returning with it to San Francisco, 
Cal., he was mustered out of the service April 20, 1901. 
A few days later he was commissioned as captain and 
assistant surgeon United States Volunteers, and June 4, 
1 90 1, he was promoted major and surgeon. 

5 



6 

He returned to the Philippine Islands July 16, 1901. He 
was placed on duty in Manila, but preferring active service, he 
was sent on his own application to Iloilo and later to Samar. 

The following tribute to the character and worth of Major 
Griswold appeared in the Hartford Courant over the signa- 
ture of W. M. S : — 

Richard Griswold was genial and whole-souled and made friends 
rapidly among people with whom he was brought in contact in one 
part of the world or another, but only those who knew him intimately 
could appreciate the full strength of his character, the rare generos- 
ity of his nature. He seems to have been particularly fitted for those 
activities which brought him so great a degree of success during the 
last three years of his life. In him the soldierly traits of undaunted 
courage and strength for endurance were united with the qualities 
essential to high success in medicine and surgery. He had judgment, 
the habit of quick decision, splendid nerve, and broad sympathies. 
He also had an innate fondness for action, always wanted to be 
where there was something doing, and was always eager to find a 
part for himself in the activities that were about him. It is a matter 
of record that during the first Philippine campaign he was often on 
the firing line, using the gun of some soldier who had fallen. In 
spite of his rugged constitution the hardships of that campaign told 
on him severely ; he suffered from neuralgia, his hearing became 
somewhat impaired, and he finally found his health so poor that he 
obtained sick leave and sailed for Japan with the intention of entering 
the United States hospital at Nagasaki. The ocean voyage, however, 
so far restored his health that he proceeded at once to China, arriving 
just before the battle of Tientsin. Here he found General Chaffee, 
who, in response to his salute, asked him who he was and what he 
was doing there. He replied that he was assistant surgeon of the 
Twenty-sixth United States Volunteers on sick leave and desired to be 
assigned to duty. General Chaffee remarked that this was the first 
instance of a man on sick leave seeking duty that had ever come under 
his observation. Surgeon Griswold was assigned to the Ninth Regi- 
ment and took an active part in the attack on Tientsin. Later, and 
entirely unknown to him, he was reported by General Chaffee for 
conspicuous courage and efficiency. On his return to the United 



States he was at once advanced to the rank of captain, and a few 
weeks later was made surgeon with the rank of major. Last summer 
he returned to the Philippines. Two weeks ago I received a letter 
from him stating that he had received permission to join the Ninth 
Regiment at Samar, where there was prospect of fighting. He said 
that he preferred this to the comparative quietude of Manila, where 
his duties required only a part of his time. 

That he should have died a soldier's death, fighting for the flag 
he loved, was only what those who knew him might have expected. 

He belonged to a family which has given our state two governors, 
and the patriotism of his brave life and its tragic close in our distant 
possessions draw from me this tribute. 



JBbwarb Ever? Bumpus 



WHOEVER reads what I say of my son Edward 
must take it affected by a father's love and fancy ; 
and if I seem to linger too long over him and 
his virtues, it is because I found in him a father's ideal, a 
loving and dutiful son. 

He was the product of a simple ancestry, from the Cush- 
man who was with Cromwell's army, the captain who led the 
colonial forces against King Philip in the Indian war, to his 
ancestors who served in the Revolutionary War, that of 1812, 
and the Civil War. His people were of the folk which made 
one of the small Plymouth towns for over two centuries ; a 
little community whose history is fragrant with the quaint 
lives of a God-fearing race ; and the story of whose men and 
women is one of independence and self-respect. 

Our boy grew up in a homestead where still survived the 
traditions of this old-fashioned New England life ; and he 
inherited its simple ways and sturdy independence. He gave 
no thought to the distinctions that pride and money have 
made in our modern life ; believing that one well-behaved 
man was as good as another, he lived with every one about 
him in equality and fraternity. Human nature was to him 
such as his ideal conceived it ought to be ; and though he 
was destined to see these liberal fancies attacked, he never 
permitted bitterness to become a tenant in his heart. It was 
his delight as a boy to listen to the old soldiers who visited 



his father, and hearken to their stories of battle and siege 
in the Civil War. His reading was largely given to that ; he 
never tired of poring over the vivid account of a battle by 
land or sea. If he found that these stories grew in size as 
the days of the Civil War grew in remoteness, his sense of 
humor delighted in the conceit ; and I fear that even I have 
been a victim of his discriminating memory. 

Delightful days to himself and to his blind brother. 

He was only four years old when Chauncey was made 
blind by sickness, and even at that age he seemed to have an 
instinct that he was to do something for his mate ; and from 
that time until he went to the Spanish War, he was the eyes, 
the strength, and the way for his brother's darkness. He 
who would flame out against every one else, was ever gentle, 
patient, with his blind brother. Whatever his mind could 
conceive and his heart feel, that was to be done for the other 
and at sacrifice to himself. They played the same games, 
read the same books, and were alike in affiliations, aspira- 
tions, and all that went to make up their manly lives. It 
was always interesting to see them together; Chauncey, — 
slight in physique, with his face stamped by his remarkable 
intelligence and with gifts that made one think that he, in 
losing the fifth sense, had found the sixth and seventh, — 
leaning upon the arm of his athletic brother, who never 
tired of having the blind one extolled while he stood by 
and allowed no one to think of himself in comparison. I 
solemnly declare that in these twenty-three years of devo- 
tion I never heard him complain that Chauncey absorbed 
his time, his social life, his educational opportunities, or 
make any sign that this was other than a pleasant duty, to 
be done patiently and untiringly. Chauncey went to Har- 
vard, a brilliant scholar ; Edward went there, entering the 
architectural department of the Lawrence Scientific School, 
conditioned, because what he ought to have given himself, he 



IO 

had given to his brother. Upon the other hand, the life that 
he had lived with his blind brother had instilled into him 
habits of gentleness, consideration for others, and a great and 
courageous patience. 

Professor Warren, of the Lawrence Scientific School, tells 
me in substance that at first the teachers were in despair 
over him ; presently they found that he was sincere, willing, 
courageous, and persistent, and they gave him encouragement 
accordingly. Whether he would have made a successful 
architect, particularly on the business side, is problematical. 
I think up to army days he would have preferred to have 
gone into dreamland and painted pictures and followed the 
bent of his quaint and humorous fancies. 

The Spanish War came, and it called him from his 
dreams. Here was the world into which he had wished 
to enter and to do with other men ; into it he carried cour- 
age of a high order, manhood, sincerity, devotion, a mind free 
from jealousies, — qualities which, if understood and appre- 
ciated by those about him, would make him a good soldier, 
without fear and without reproach. Military experience he 
had none ; his life had been one of self-effacement for his 
brother; the college world had given him nothing practical 
to contribute except a readiness to get at the adversary in 
the most direct manner, and a manhood that told after he had 
got to be known. 

I am not going to enter into the detail of how he was put 
to work and how he struggled until, after two or three years' 
experience as a soldier, he became one. While he suffered, 
he felt the rough justice of it all. He saw and felt that his 
brother officers would see that he was treated fairly, and he 
was. To his credit was given all that he was entitled to. 
It was known that he was one of the fourteen officers who 
fearlessly upheld the reputation of the " Fighting Ninth " at 
Tientsin ; that he behaved himself bravely and with good 



II 

nerve under fire ; that he marched his number of miles ; that 
he did not seek after details; that he was willing to do 
whatever came to him to do ; that he interfered with no other 
man's rights ; that he was open and frank, concerned in no 
cabals, and only needed time and severe service to make him 
a soldier, plenty of which he received. 

For the kindly offices and friendly services rendered to 
him by his brother officers in the Twenty-first United States 
Infantry and the Ninth United States Infantry, from the time 
he began at Plattsburg until he was killed at Samar, let his 
father say to them that he keenly appreciated it all ; and that 
in almost his last letter he spoke most feelingly of how he had 
been taught to overcome his difficulties by all they had done 
for him. I can imagine that his brother officers, gathered 
around the mess and campfire in days to come, speaking of 
the battle of Tientsin, the march and campaign in China, and 
the massacre at Samar, will have nothing but kindly words 
for the brave and manly fellow who was my son. 

What others thought of him may be estimated best by this 
extract from a letter written to me by Captain Lawton. He 
says : — 

I have been so overcome by the horror of it all and by my own 
personal affliction on account of it, that I have not been able to write 
you an intelligent letter. Your poor son and I had been near death 
together many times ; and, but for my unfortunate wounds, would 
have perhaps died together ; for Connell took my place in the regi- 
ment. There is nothing that I can say to lessen your grief or mine, 
but I can say that I knew old Ed better than any one else in the 
regiment and loved him more than I could a brother. He was essen- 
tially a manly, upright gentleman and a brave and extraordinarily 
gallant soldier. His conduct on many a bloody field and his lament- 
able death give the lie to his traducers and give his stricken father 
the only comfort possible. If we were all as true gentlemen, with 
equal nobility of heart as was he, we could more of us afford to die. 



12 

The respect and affection he inspired in those who served 
with him are indicated in many letters I have received. The 
following is a sample of them and must speak for all : — 

I write to you to-day to convey to you my heartfelt sympathy 
for the loss of your son Edward. As I served under him in the 
Philippines as a member of K Company, Twenty-first Infantry, I 
knew him well, and not only learned to love him as an officer, but more 
for his genial spirit and his love for his men. Your son had done so 
much for me up to the time he left us that I deemed it my duty not only 
to write him and thank him, but to call on you and have you know of 
his many deeds which only one like him could have performed. He 
was more to me than my commander ; he was more than a friend ; he 
was almost a brother. While at Block-house No. 4, outside Manila, 
he would call me to his tent and hand me brandy when I was suffer- 
ing with dysentery ; and again, when marching out to Zapote Bridge, 
we halted to rest, and I sat down by the roadside, and he came over 
and sat beside me, and remarked, "Well, this isn't much like 'biking' 
over the Blue Hills, is it ? " For at that time we were covered with 
mud. I wrote to him while he was in China, but did not hear from 
the dear fellow, a letter from whom I would cherish forever. I shall 
be pleased to call at your office and see you at any time. ■ I remem- 
ber quite well your visit to Plattsburg, N.Y., in March or early in 
April, '99, as you went through the squad rooms on a morning we 
were having inspection. I sincerely hope you will be able to stand 
your loss, which is indeed a heavy one, but realize that you are proud 
to know that he died a most heroic death and that his country is 
robbed of a brave defender, his brother officers of a loyal friend, the 
men he commanded of an ideal commander, and his father of as 
noble and brave a son as man ever had. 

George B. Tinkham. 

My friend, Mr. Joseph Smith, contributed these comments 
on the letters : — 

There is probably no better index to the nature and character of 
a young man, than the letters he writes to his home and to his friends. 
Here he reveals himself; the little touches of affection, of kindly 



13 

remembrance, his point of view of men and things, the thought for 
those he loves, the revelation of his struggles to do his work, to per- 
form his duty, — all these are shown with a certain nakedness and 
unashamedness that give us the key to his character. 

The letters of Edward Avery Bum pus to his father, his mother, 
his sister, and to all who made his home life before he went forth on 
the great highway of life to do his part in the struggle, are replete 
with the little indexes that show the manner of man he was. He was 
simple and earnest, anxious to learn and do his duty as a soldier, and 
finding a grateful change from the monotonies of the camp and the 
excitement of the field, in turning in thought to the New England 
home he had left behind. While he made no pretensions to letter 
writing as a fine art, or to any of what we call literary style in his 
correspondence, we can catch a glimpse in the boy's simple realism 
of the dirt and dulness of war, — its seamy side. The pomp, the 
pride, and circumstances of war, its glory, its banners, its brazen music, 
find no place in his letters. We see him in a wet tent or a shabby 
hut, amid dirt and noise, thinking of the comfort of a bath, the joy of 
a clean shirt, the unwonted luxury of a good meal; we find him cheer- 
ful amid cheerless surroundings, patient in sickness ; humorous in 
situations that try the temper; thoughtful and considerate for the 
men under his command ; anxious to do his whole duty and to 
learn the business of his choice. We find him, by the evidence of 
these letters, a kind, cheerful, wholesome, healthy boy, full of affec- 
tion for the home and the friends left behind, and pleasantly antici- 
patory of the day when he would once more stand in the land of his 
fathers. He was a good son — a good brother. His little sister shared 
his thoughts in the distant land ; his blind brother was never absent 
from his heart and mind, under the palms of the islands of the sea, 
or amid the snows of distant Cathay. 

The letters are naturally incomplete. They date from his life in 
Cambridge, along through his varying experiences, as militiaman, 
artilleryman, volunteer, and regular, up to within a short time of the 
tragedy that ended all for him. His death in the awful massacre that 
closed so many bright lives and hopes was the unexpected in a life 
and amid scenes where anything might be expected ; and we find 
the dark tragedy which closed his career discounted several times in 
these letters. His letters have a peculiar value for those who received 



14 

them; they must be pathetically interesting to those who scan the 
volume, as buds which show what the fruitage might have been had 
the writer been permitted in the providence of God to live and work 
out his honorable ambition. 

31 Holyoke House, Saturday Morning, May 2, 1896. 

Dear Mother : Your last letter will be one of the last, according 
to what you said in it. We shall all be glad to see you and the boys 
very soon. These seven years you speak of have been very pleasant 
to all, and we boys cannot tell you what a help you have been to us. 
Mere words cannot express it ; but let us hope we will have many 
similar happy years to come. This summer I want to do a good deal 
of sketching and water-color work about Quincy. I did a little 
sketching this last Easter vacation, which ended April 27. The Fri- 
day afternoon during the vacation I started off at quarter-past two 
from my room and reached Newburyport that night at seven. The 
forty-eight miles of road were exceedingly good. At Newburyport I 
had some good food and a nice rest in an old tavern called the Wolfe 
— built about 1737. The town is about four miles long and three- 
quarters of a mile wide. All through the place are historic churches, 
houses, and what-not. The next morning I started about eight o'clock 
for Portsmouth. This distance was about twenty-two miles, over 
pretty rough, heavy roads nearly all the way. When I had gone nearly 
thirteen miles I came across the most delightful old house to sketch. 
There I spent an hour under a little tree across the road from the 
house. While I was sketching, a little boy came out of the house, 
where I did not think any one lived, and after a time he came over 
to me and began to play with the bicycle. The boy had an old gun 
barrel with which he pretended to shoot the birds which were in some 
trees welcoming the cold east wind and the beautiful day. In a few 
minutes another kid a little smaller with red hair and very much 
like Foster came out. They finally left me and walked over to the 
house. They began to quarrel, and a rawboned Ma appeared who 
said that they would catch it from Daddie when he came home. 
Soon after this I finished my drawing, and finished my ride about 
11.30. At Portsmouth I called on your cousins, the Thatchers. I 
wanted to make some sketches at Portsmouth, but I did not have 
enough money, so I took an afternoon train for Boston, Since that 



i5 

trip I have not ridden much, though last Sunday I went out to Quincy 

in the afternoon. 

Fort Warren, Thursday Evening. 

Dear Father : The temptation came this noon and I could not 
resist it this time. I said that I would stick to my battery if they wanted 
me ; so here I am. To-morrow some of the men take the physical 
examination preparatory to entering the regular army as part of the 
state quota. I was sorry to leave Chauncey ; but he has some good 
friends who will take care of him. This coming down here was 
rather sudden, but I have been so undecided in various things that 
I thought I would do something definite, and stick to it until the end 
of the war. I may not be able to pass the physical examination, but 
when I do, our battery (A) and battery H are going to Winthrop. 
There are a number of Harvard men in this company, and that is one 
of the main reasons I joined this battery. I am going to the examina- 
tion in a short time. It is raining hard outside now and the camp 
seems to be dismal at present. I may be home on a leave of absence 
next week. Give my love to the children and mother, and you can 
take some for yourself, as it is the only thing I can send you. 

Fort Warren. 

Dear Christine : You must excuse me for not writing to you be- 
fore, but I have saved a four-leaf clover for you. I went on guard that 
night, and some one borrowed it for a time, and that means the last 
of it about this hobo-joint. There is a good crowd of fellows here 
and we have many a good time together. Yesterday afternoon our 
baseball team defeated another team thirty-three runs to twenty-three. 
I played right field and made three runs and struck out twice. It was 
the funniest game I ever played in ; because we had our crowd cheering 
us on and the other side had a number of rooters. Two of the offi- 
cers were umpires. It was pretty difficult to catch balls out in the field 
on account of the polling-booths in which we sleep. These booths 
are on one side of the parade ground and take up a good part of it, 
along with our large mess tent, some Gatling and Hotchkiss guns, 
and the kitchen. The fortifications are pretty strong, but are not 
very well armed for modern warfare. Grandfather Bumpus used to 
be quartered in this fort before the war. Friday night I went home 
on a "leave of absence," and spent the night in Quincy. The house 



i6 

looks very nice and the grounds are beautiful with the green trees 
and pansies and what-not. You will not know the library when you 
go home for your vacation (which I suppose will come about the first 
of June). Next morning I got up at half-past five. I picked my 
fatigue-cap full of pansies twice, and a small bunch of English vio- 
lets which were too sweet to fade. You ought to have been there to 
pick the flowers. The whole family was well, and Morris and Fos- 
ter nearly stood on their heads when they saw me in my uniform. 
We expect some new ones before many months and they will be 
beauties. We have heavy cape coats with two rows of large buttons 
on the front, with a row of small ones on the cape. Then we have 
a dark blue jacket, and trousers of a different shade, with a fatigue- 
hat. The only thing that troubles me is the fact that there are no 
Spaniards about. If you see any in Amherst, please send them to 
this fort ; we should like to see some of them ; we have several big 
guns we should like to use on them. 

Nahant, July 7, 1898. 

Dear Mother : I meant to answer your letter from the guard- 
quarters, but when I was not doing guard duty, some one was using 
the writing materials, or I was tired. This morning we of the old 
guard had a rest. Most of us spent the time reading and having a 
good swim from some of the rocks near our cook house. Arthur was 
here Tuesday noon, and I gave him some of the " mystery " stew, 
which is one of our standbys. The nights are very beautiful now, 
and from where I was on guard next the guard-quarters I could get a 
splendid view of the silvery moon riding through the sky. It made 
me think of Ben Jonson's poem to the moon, which begins, — 

" Queen and huntress chaste and fair, 
Now the sun is laid to rest," etc. 

I am taking good care of my physical welfare. We have " set- 
ting up " drill for an hour or so nearly every day, and I am always 
thinking of filling my lungs with the sea breezes which are blowing a 
great part of the time. Chauncey gave me that telegram from Sena- 
tor Hoar, which is very encouraging. Do not be alarmed about my 
becoming discouraged, for if I find that I am not fitted for such a 
position, what is the use of thinking about it ? There are rumors afloat 
that our whole regiment is going to move before long. The Captain 
congratulated me again over the telegram. I suppose that I shall 



i7 

hear much about it before long. When I do go to be examined, I 
should like to have an order of some sort, although I suppose Colonel 
Pfaff would give me a pass with much trouble. With love to all. 

Lithia Springs, Ga., August 17, 1898. 

Dear Mother : As you can see by the title, I am settled in a 
pleasant place about thirty miles to the south of Atlanta. I got here 
Sunday night, and the next day I started to drill my men. All the 
new lieutenants have each got about a company of men to take care 
of. I have 106 men in my charge, and it seems a little strange to 
captain so many men ; but I went right at it, and now, although I 
have only been in charge of them for two days, I am getting along 
famously. I begin to feel as much at home with them as I did when 
only a private, and had officers in the company who had all the (my 
pocket dictionary has a word to say) responsibility. The company is 
well equipped, and there are half a dozen men who have seen service 
before ; they are a great help to me. My duties so far have been 
simple. I am going to start a school for non-commissioned officers 
(eighteen to a company) before long ; in fact I had some of them in 
the woods near the street yesterday. The men are sleeping in little 
shelter tents, two to a tent. These tents are about three feet by six 
feet, and are not very waterproof. There are over two thousand troops 
camping among the trees, and raw recruits are coming into camp 
every day. I am in hopes that some tents will come in a day or so 
for the officers, as the hotel is expensive, and I for one prefer simple 
food, and a tent, so as to be nearer the men and be able to look after 
them better. A Major Wilhein of the Twenty-first has charge of the 
camp now, and we are going to have an officers' mess before long. I 
went to the funniest progressive card party last night. Some one 
started to get people together at this rotten-water hotel a few days ago, 
and he certainly got a collection which would have done old Thackeray's 
heart good to have seen. Some of the old ladies played as if their 
fortunes were at stake. I got one very nervous old lady quite furious 
because I dropped a card on the floor at a critical moment wlfen points 
counted. I thought I might have to put her in the guard-house for 
assaulting me. What a place this is, and how different from the 
North ! I wish those confounded mosquitoes would stop trying to be 
musical. 

c 



i8 

Plattsburg, N.Y., September 14, 1898. 

Dear Father : We came into Plattsburg last evening about six 
o'clock with 610 men, including five officers and two assistant surgeons. 
This was after a very pleasant trip of two nights and part of a day 
from Lithia Springs, Ga. The trip was a sort of triumphal jour- 
ney from start to finish. At Washington the Pension Bureau gave us 
a free feed, and at two or three other places we had a kind reception. 
The recruits were divided into two sections, and our major, a first 
lieutenant, and an assistant surgeon, had charge of the first section of 
295 men. There were three of us new second lieutenants with another 
assistant surgeon in charge of 320 men in the second section. All of 
the men had comfortable parlor cars, and of course we had good cars. 
Our car was on the rear of the train, and we had the most beautiful 
views, especially along the shores of Lake Champlain ; but I will tell 
you about that later on when I get settled. 

I should like my photographs I had at college, as well as my 
portfolio of pictures of Memorial Hall, and my '98 album which is at 
home. Please send in the box my blanket wrapper, and the Spanish 
grammar and reader which I started to use last year. 

Plattsburg, N.Y., March 12, 1899. 

Dear Father : Your telegram came last Friday when I was 
on guard. The regiment is under orders to move, but we are short of 
men to the number of 300 or more, and we have got to wait until 
we have our ranks filled to 1344 men. This will not take long, for 
the recruits are arriving every day, and there are nearly 95 men 
in my company alone. We need 112 men to a company. This is 
the number fixed by the late bill in Congress. A company is only 
supposed to have between 40 and 60 men on peace footing. The 
present regular regiments are being filled to the limit to make our 
standing army 65,324 men. Then there is going to be a volunteer 
force of 35,000 more until 1901. This new army bill causes some 
dissatisfaction among the officers. It seems to be a good bill in 
certain respects, but it was not carefully enough considered, and Con- 
gress has been cussed at in good shape by some of my brother officers. 
Why some of them should cuss is more than I can understand, since 
it gives them promotion, and they all have well paid, easy positions ; 
that is, positions which are comparatively easy in contrast to what 



19 

others are doing in the country. Army life at times must become 
monotonous, especially in posts on the plains. This is considered one 
of the best posts in the army, and I should like to spend a summer 
here. 

We have just had dinner at our mess, and two of the fellows are 
playing cribbage at a table near at hand. From my window by which 
I am writing I can get a good view of the lake ; that is, when it is clear, 
and not a March day like to-day. It snows a bit, and then the next 
day or two the rain comes and shows the dirty parade ground once 
more. 

I just finished reading " Mercedes of Castille " by J. Fenimore 
Cooper. This seems like going back to my early days, and I can re- 
member what a time I used to have reading of the adventures of 
Nattie Bumpo (why can't we have the family name changed to this ?) 
and his associates. This book came from the post library. There 
is a room at the headquarters building, which is used as a school 
two or three months in the year, besides being a reading room and 
library. The officers have a lyceum there every Monday and Thurs- 
day. All the officers take turns reading original essays. I was 
among the first to read, since I am low ranking, the reading be- 
ginning with the lowest ranking officer and working up to the highest. 
My subject was " The Monroe Doctrine," and I did as well as most 
of them, which is not saying much, because the officers only do it 
because it is required by regulations, and consequently do not take 
much interest in it. 

Then there has been a general court martial once or twice, and 
I was counsel for a man a few weeks ago. I tried to prove that he 
had not deserted, but was only absent without leave. You know that 
the Judge-advocate is the prosecutor for the government, and the 
prisoner can call for counsel if he so desires. I don't believe that 
I helped the man much, but it was good experience. At any rate 
he did not get a long sentence. I have seen him shovelling ashes 
several times since, and he will probably not try to take " French 
leave " again. The prisoners are divided into garrison prisoners, or 
those serving a sentence at any post, those awaiting trial, and those 
awaiting the result of trial. Last Friday was pay-day, and there is 
usually a large increase of inhabitants at the guard-house as a result. 
This was an unusually quiet day. The last army bill abolished the 



20 

canteen, and this is a bad measure, for it is through the canteen that 
the companies obtain funds for extra comforts which are not furnished 
by the government. 

Let me know the day you intend to return to Boston, and I will 
endeavor to get a leave of absence at that time. In case I cannot get 
this leave I will telegraph you. I should like to take some books 
to Quincy before we go, as I do not want to take too much across 
country. 

Dear Christine : I have been in Boston since last Tuesday night 
for a week's visit. Wednesday evening my old volunteer battery had 
a muster and I went in to see them. After the drill was over three 
or four of us went to Cambridge and spent the night. I stayed in one 
of the rooms in Hollis, and we had breakfast in Memorial Hall. The 
rest of the morning I spent in Hastings Hall seeing Chauncey and his 
roommate. The room looked very cosy and Chauncey has got a 
good fellow rooming with him. Finally I got into Boston, where I 
had expected some one to dine with me, but he did not come, so I 
dined alone. Arthur and two others dined with me that evening, and 
Chauncey and his roommate with Arthur and myself went in to see 
" The Christian " at the Boston Museum. There are some good 
shows in town at present, and I intend to see Julia Marlowe and pos- 
sibly the Grand Opera next Monday evening. Yesterday noon I took 
a train to Quincy and stayed there until the four-twelve train. While 
I was there I took dinner at Aunt Elsie's house, but did not see 
her. I also called at the bank, Mrs. Lane's, the old house which 
is looking well, and Mrs. Breed, who was not at home ; but I saw Mr. 
Breed. Chauncey is coming some time to-day, and we will be together 
to-morrow, for we intend to visit Quincy to say good-by. Your 
vacation begins shortly, but I am afraid I shall not see you. 

Saturday, March 25, 1899. 

2D Battalion, Wednesday, April 12. 

Dear Father: We are just entering Chicago, where we expect 
to stay for a few hours, or until the 1st Battalion with the head-quar- 
ters passes us. The trip has been very pleasant so far, as we have 
had some good weather. What a smoky place Chicago is ; but I 
imagine it is not as bad as Pittsburg. My principal ambition in 



21 

life just at present is to get a good bath and a shave ; otherwise I 
am as perfect as any old soldier can hope to be. Lieutenant Clement 
brought a nice lunch basket with him, so that I have not starved 
at all. We stopped for dinner yesterday at a little " one horse " 
place called Salamanca, somewhere on the Erie Railroad. The 
men usualy get off at all stops, and we have left two or three behind 
who will join the following sections. Those cigars are all right and 
have been duly appreciated by several of us. I expect we will get 
some embalmed beef here and other fixings. You see, with the weak- 
ness of my sex, that my inner man cries out. We are going through 
the stock yards now and they are not very inviting. There is no 
news except that all hands are on deck and well. With love and a 
pleasant house-cleaning in Quincy. 

On to Manila, U.S.S. Hancock, April 18, 1899. 

Tuesday. Left San Francisco about five o'clock in the morning 
and passed through the Golden Gate an hour or two afterwards. The 
early morning was clear and cool with just enough swell to make it 
interesting. We left the pilot just outside the harbor. The day's 
run was about seventy-eight miles, as we had to lay to for a while 
in order to repair a broken valve. This was rather tiresome because 
the boat pitched badly in the swells and the lockers had to be put on 
the dinner tables. 

The dining room is well fitted with comfortable chairs, a piano, 
and seats between sixty and seventy. All the servants are Chinese, 
and they make good, clean workers. Meade, Huguet, McKaskey, 
Weeks, Boyle, Fassett, and Lawton are my messmates, and we hold 
our own very well. The meals cost a dollar a day, and we generally 
manage to get our money's worth. The menu is varied and gives 
as much variety as can be expected on board a first-class steamer. 
The privates fare very well and have little to complain of. 

Wednesday. This diary is, like all diaries (with the exception of 
perhaps Pepys's Diary), very much the same as the days go by. We 
made good time to-day, that is we went 289 miles, and are holding a 
westerly course. This boat is a fine steamer about 475 feet long and 
big in proportion. There are nearly 1700 souls on board including 
the crew, which numbers 179. The ship's captain is a big, blue- 



22 

eyed Anglo-Saxon, who has followed the sea all his life and who 
seems to have been well treated by it. He has some efficient officers 
under him. 

The enlisted men have their quarters fore and aft, and are well 
provided with iron cots. Several windsails make the ventilation 
clear and cool 'tween decks, and besides these there are some big 
ventilators near the whacking big smokestack. This stack is nearly 
six feet in diameter, and is in the centre with two masts fore and two 
aft. Some of the officers have been sick, but I have not been except 
the first day, when I felt headachy and did not enjoy the motion of 
the ship any too well. 

Sunday. This diary has suffered lately from great neglect, and 
it has cried out so loudly the last few days that I had to help it. 
We have been going along very well lately and are already more 
than fourteen hundred miles on our way. Our course so far has 
been west, and now we are taking a southwest course so as to pass 
north of the Hawaiian Islands and stay in as cool a climate as pos- 
sible. A day or so ago we passed a brigantine with all sails set, and 
it made me think of some of Washington Irving's meditations on 
seeing a lone ship at sea. 

I was on guard Friday and had to inspect sentries three or four 
times. This was not very arduous work, since there is only a small 
place where the men guard. The boat is so crowded that the men 
find it hard to eat their food on the decks. An officer is supposed 
to inspect his company at meals. I am writing this in the dining 
room among a number of the officers who are playing cards, writing, 
talking, and fooling. This room has a piano and accommodates a 
large number. 

For the last day or two we have been giving the men a number 
of drills ; that is, short drills in calisthenics, or setting-up exercises. 
The boys have just gathered round the piano and are singing "A 
Hot Time in the Old Town." You can imagine that this was not 
allowed to last long, but we ordered some ginger-pop and apollinaris 
to cool our throats. This writing is too much of an effort, and I 
must get to bed very soon. The sleeping accommodations are very 
good, as we have two berths and a sofa. 

Monday. The day opened with a fog which had been overhang- 
ing us for the last few days. My company commander was put on 



23 

guard, and so I took charge of the company during drill this morn- 
ing. 

The fog lasted all day and well into the next. We have been 
sailing through thousands of " Portuguese men-of-war," or nauti- 
luses. These little jelly-fishes are beautifully colored and have a 
little pointed jelly fin on a flat, spherical body; underneath is a hol- 
low with little suckers by means of which they get their sustenance 
from the water. It is hard to see what they live on. Their little 
conical sails propel them about. During the day we passed through 
some pretty seaweed and large masses of a pale green weed, very 
much like that seen on a frog pond. In these patches were myriads 
of nautiluses. Some of the waves brought the little creatures on 
deck, but they did not seem to have much life in them. 

The next day, April 26, was a little more pleasant, and in fact 
there was hardly any sea on. About reveille (six in the morning) 
one of the men was buried. The burial must have been very simple, 
for I did not see it, and was only awakened by the stopping of the 
boat. A splash, and that was all ; another soul to join the grew- 
some habitants of the deep. It made me think of the burial of Sir 

John Moore : — 

" Not a drum was heard, 
Not a funeral note," etc. 

I suppose I shall soon become accustomed to sudden death. 

During the afternoon the only excitement was a fire drill. The 
whistle blew a warning note, and we hurried to our companies to 
keep them quiet. The crew and some details of soldiers placed 
themselves near the boats, and the hose was gotten ready. Then 
the boat blew its siren whistle, and bells rang, and the hose played, 
and the drill was over. 

After lunch I read "The Adventures of Philip," by Thackeray. 
This writer's books are all interesting, and have so many touches of 
nature and life ; but what am I to talk about life, who have only 
just crossed the threshold a little way? The doorstone in Memorial 
Hall used to be so worn with countless steps, — steps that pass and 
repass and grow stronger or weaker, to finally go out into the land 
to their duty. Thackeray has a way of reminding one of early child- 
hood and shows touches so natural that one keeps saying to himself, 
"Why, that is just what I have thought, but could not express." 



24 

One would not think thus unless he had the same feelings, and it 
shows that self is every one's guidance. Put self in the background 
and it will out, too strong in some and well balanced in others. 
Then again one cannot bite off very much of Thackeray at a time, 
but should see what he thinks of people and retain some of the 
plums and curt expressions occasionally. 

We skipped Thursday because the ship crossed the 180 merid- 
ian, and according to reckoning we lose a day going west and gain 
one going east at this point in the centre of the Pacific halfway 
round the world. The captain is holding a southwest course so as 
to keep us as cool as possible. He expects to reach Manila in about 
ten days more. I must say something right here about the lost day. 

The day passed as usual except that we had a funeral in the 
evening. The services were very impressive. Just before the body 
was placed on the port rail, ready to be launched into eternity, the 
silvery moon came rolling out of the clouds, and that combined with 
the bareheaded spectators made a scene to be remembered. The 
services were soon read, a plunge, and another being had joined the 
graveyard of the deep. 

It is now Friday evening, and we have had a delightful day with 
hardly any swell to speak of, although the sea is still restless. I got 
up at quarter-past six and took a refreshing salt-water bath in one 
of the bathrooms. Then I went on deck and inspected my company 
at breakfast. The men all line up, and with mess pans in hand take 
their turns and fill their stomachs. At twenty minutes of ten we 
had short setting-up drill and then loafed until lunch at 12.30. Dur- 
ing the afternoon I read, and slept until supper at 6. These meals 
do not come any too soon for most of us. 

In the evening we loafed about the deck and had solid comfort. 
The boat's searchlight was turned on for a few minutes and lighted 
up the waters pretty well. 

Monday, May 1, 1899. 

We did not hang up any May baskets, although it was such a fine 
day when we first got up that I was tempted to. There is no candy 
on board, and I am afraid that cabbage would not make a good floral 
decoration. It grew cloudy before noon and settled in for a hard 
blow. The wind blew great guns, and the water and spray came over 



2 5 

the bow once in awhile. It was a grand sight to see the waves, and 
especially so from such a staunch, secure boat as this vessel. The 
weather side of the boat was rather wet, and at one time the storm was 
so bad that the vessel's course was changed slightly to head into the 
storm. The wind soon went down, and the next morning we were 
going along peacefully. We have all got our sea legs- on and do not 
mind the sea much. This trip is like an excursion to me. 

Tuesday, May 2, 1899, to Wednesday, May 10, 1899. 

There was a bad break in the machinery to-day and we were 
delayed until the following morning. One of the pistons broke, and 
the ship was helpless until the Chinamen, with superintendence of the 
engineers, managed to put another in its place. It was a long, hot 
piece of work, and none of us envied the men at their work above 
the engines. The weather was good while we were drifting about. 
Land was sighted off the starboard bow early in the morning and we 
were in sight of it all day. The next morning, Wednesday, we 
sighted and passed a large rock about noon. This was evidently the 
top of an extinct volcano which had placed its head above the waves, 
and died there in its solemn, solitary grandeur. While we were lying 
lazily on the waters, the men on board managed to catch three sharks 
which had been about the boat some time. The sharks were small, 
averaging about ten feet. The men caught them by means of a small 
line, and when Mr. Fish was partly out of water, a strong slipnoose 
was let down the smaller line, and he was noosed. 

May 10, 150 miles from Manila. 

The diary, or anything else an unhappy reader may name it, has 
been sadly neglected lately. We are so close to Manila that it is hot, 
and almost too uncomfortable to write. I would be very uncomfort- 
able, but the third officer has very kindly lent me the use of his state- 
room and an electric fan, which makes life worth living. From where 
I am sitting I can see the engine room cover and hear the continu- 
ous click, thump, and clatter of the engines. These engines have 
broken four times since we started and made the time much longer 
on the water. The weather has been glorious and the eastern sunsets 
are indescribable. Last night we sighted the Philippines about five 
o'clock and passed through a channel between Luzon and a smaller 



26 

island (there are twelve hundred of them in the group and most of 
them are inhabited). The sun set behind some of the islands, and it 
seemed as though the paint pot of the gods had been upset. We 
were in sight of land this morning and are coasting along to Manila 
perhaps two hundred miles away. 

The band plays every morning for an hour or two and then in 
the evening it always comes out — weather permitting — to play " The 
Star-Spangled Banner," "Just as the Sun went Down," etc. The 
effect of the band and the sun was very artistic, but I felt too lazy to 
write any poetry. I guess it did me no harm to feel it. 

To-day, another Wednesday, and just a month from Plattsburg, 
N.Y., is rather warm. The water is smooth and 87 in temperature. 
By the feeling I should imagine that the sun was 90 . We passed a 
large steamer bound for Japan this morning. She did not stop, but 
the ship's captain said she was a troopship on her way back to the 
United States. We are going into Manila Bay to-morrow morning 
and will.be landed very shortly. I am going on guard to-morrow, 
and so I will not get a chance to work off my small stock of Spanish 
on any fair senoritas. 

In Camp, Manila, P. I., May 16, 1899. 

Dear Mother : Buenas dias ! (good morning), Como la va ? (how 
are you). My last note was written just before I received orders to 
go on a scouting expedition toward the San Juan River three miles 
in front of the outposts. I took two men and a corporal with only 
our arms (the men all had one hundred rounds in their belts and I 
had my revolver) and a canteen. We started about 8 a.m., and after 
going through rice fields and occasional clearings with breastworks 
scattered about, by burnt villages and remains of gardens, with occa- 
sional wells, we reached a sunken road and then the San Juan River. 

I send a newspaper and a priest's dispensation, taken, while scout- 
ing, from a very picturesque Spanish church near the San Juan. 

Manila, P. I., June 27, 1899. 

Dear Chauncey : Your letter dated June the 7th reached me on 
June 23, while we were camped near Blockhouse number Cinco, not 
far from the Baligbalig road which goes into Manila from the 
trenches. The next day being one of my most memorable of days, 



2 7 

— my birthday, — I had made arrangements to visit the city and 
have a little dinner with a few gentlemen at the Army and Navy 
Club, 38 Calle Marina Erminita (of which I am a member), but we 
got orders to pack up and move. So our battalion under charge of 
Captain Oltenhead moved about four miles to the north, and we have 
been here since then. The rainy season is upon us, and it rains hard 
every day late in the afternoon for two or three hours. Last night it 
started to rain and it is raining very hard just at present. We are 
camped in snug tents three hundred yards in front of the Cabocan 
station. There is no town here, but there are four or five car shops, 
and some large nipa barracks are being erected here for the use of a 
regiment or so during the rainy season. From Cabocan the railway 
goes into San Fernando, which is about fifty miles from Manila. Our 
troops hold this last city, which is one of the most important points in 
the island of Luzon. Last year there was heavy fighting here and 
all along to San Fernando. Aguinaldo is entrenched about San 
Fernando and has tried to force our lines there, but he cannot last 
long and has few sympathizers in the island. There are a number 
of islands in the Philippine group, but the only trouble is in and 
around one or two provinces of the island of Luzon. This camp is 
almost five miles by rail from the city, and the trains run like Cape 
Cod trains, — once a day. The steamer did not stop at Honolulu, but 
we were hustled across as fast as possible and only camped a day in 
the city before going into camp near part of the trenches which guard 
the city on the land side for eight or ten miles. The volunteers are 
being shipped home as fast as possible. The news here of opera- 
tions, etc., oftentimes does not appear in the local papers until four 
days after they occur, so that you get the news quicker than we do, 
by means of the cable. By cracker, how it do rain, as the Amherst- 
ites say ; but I have got a ten by twelve wall tent, and the fly sheds 
water pretty well. I sleep on a " gold medal " cot, — that is, a canvas 
cot which folds into a hand bundle and is an excellent thing for the 
field. Besides this, I have three blankets, an old blackboard as part 
of a floor, a candlestick consisting of an empty (too bad) pint bottle 
of infandel claret, my dress suit case, which still holds together, pail, 
wash basin, soap (I thought I would mention it, although it is not 
often used by certain classes of the population), canteen (which gets 
very cool and sweet at night), haversack, a bolo or native knife (a 



28 

relic of our Bacoor campaign, June 13), field glasses, and a blanket 
roll. This roll is a heavy piece of canvas about seven feet square and 
arranged to be used as a hammock, shelter, and bed ; it is an indis- 
pensable article for an officer to have in the field because one's 
blankets, cot, and clothes can be rolled up in it. Lastly I have a fine 
rain coat and a pair of rubber boots which are just the thing in such 
a climate. I am writing this seated on my cot, and using the seat of 
a fine cane chair which one of the men found in camp and gave to me. 
You can picture to yourself an individual perfectly healthy and ready 
for anything. I have seen Dalton several times. We took our exam- 
ination for promotion together. All the officers are well with the 
exception of Donovan and Connolly, who are wounded. 

Caloocan R.R. Station, Manila, P. I., July 3d, 1899. 

My dear Padre : Your letter came with several others, and I 
could picture to myself the circumstances and surroundings under 
which it was written. The dear old library lighted up by the fire, by 
whose side I have spent many a fleeting hour browsing through 
Scott's novels, or Plutarch's masterly lives. I can see the pug dog 
and the "kids," who must be rather resentful of such a title by this 
time. Then I can see you reading in that comfortable chair by the 
front window, and gazing at the heavy laden trees outside. Yes, 
Sunday is a day of rest ; but here in the trenches every day is very 
much alike, but there is a little variety occasionally, when some per- 
son has to be examined at our post. Every woman and male child 
twelve years old is allowed to pass without question along the main 
road, but men must have government passes, and we usually take all 
the contraband of war we can find. Some thirty or forty men are just 
starting for target practice to our front. We start the recruits at one 
hundred yards and work back to three hundred. So you see that 
everything in the army goes on just the same, the only difference 
being that we are so far from the United States, a few of the " nig- 
gers" might give us a go, but they have been thoroughly beaten in this 
part of the island, and it is hardly likely that there will ever be much 
more fighting so near Manila. 

We have a reading club in the company, and we get the news- 
papers and comic papers in every mail. On the table where I am 
writing, under Mr. Clement's tent fly, there is a San Francisco Citron- 



2 9 

icle, May 21, 1899, which I intend to look at soon. Mr. Clement 
went to the city this morning and returns this evening. Back of my 
tent there is the noise of building all day, for the government is hav- 
ing some nipa barracks built. These are constructed like the native 
nipa huts, but on a much larger scale. A regiment is to be quartered 
here, and it is interesting to see the Chinese laborers working. A 
framework of some hard wood is first erected, and then a pitched roof 
of bamboo is put up, the bamboos being fastened to the side timbers, 
and enough overhang being left to allow of a good shedding of water. 
When this framework has been finished, it is covered with strips of 
dry nipa leaves, which overhang each other and make a cool, dry 
house. There are some of these barracks in use in the city at pres- 
ent. It is the rainy season, and one should get under a good dry roof 
tent. My tent is very comfortable, and sheds water like a duck, and 
then everything dries so nicely after a rain when the hot sun comes 
out. 

We had lunch about twelve o'clock, and then at one a sergeant 
took nine men and finished our target practice for new men at one 
hundred yards. There is so much hammering and chattering among 
the workmen back of the tent that it is hard to sleep in the daytime ; 
but I make it up by going to bed every night at nine and getting up 
to take the reveille report at 5.30. Nearly every morning I go out to 
inspect our two Cossask posts, three hundred yards or more at our 
front. The country here is very flat, and there is an open field, broken 
here and there by trees, which stretches along our front and ends in 
woods about two miles off, so that you see we have a good secure posi- 
tion with a fine field of fire. My rubber boots are just the thing for 
this season, and they have saved me many a cold while in camp. Mr. 
Clement and I each have a man from the company to look after us, 
and my man is a hustler. I have a washstand, a cracker box made 
into a table with the inside of the box to be used as a shelf, a bamboo 
pole stretched through my front and rear windows on which I hang 
my clothes. The man washes all my clothes and has a bamboo 
clothes-horse on which to dry things back of my tent. 

With all of these comforts, and by being careful of dieting, avoid- 
ing much spirituous liquors, and keeping dry, one can manage to stand 
the rainy season. There is a small bookstore in town, where I buy 
novels. The dealer has not got a large assortment, and most of them 



3Q 

second-hand. When we are settled in regular barracks I intend to 
get at my box of books in our storehouse. I have about two hundred 
good books in the box, but one might as well hunt for a needle in a 
haystack as to try to find it in the mass of stuff we have there. Some- 
time you might send a batch of old magazines, which are just the 
thing in camp. 

I am glad to hear that General Bates is going to be paymaster- 
general ; perhaps he can land a V occasionally. 

Does this letter sound homesicky ? 

July 3d, 1899. 

My dear Christine : In spite of the fact that you owe me sev- 
eral letters, I am going to write you on a piece of Spanish legal paper 
I picked up in a house in Manila and thought it was a little odd. I 
went to Manila Saturday, and had a little change in food and air. 
Manila is nearly four miles from this station, and a pleasant, shady 
road leads into the town. Last year there was some heavy fighting 
all up and down this way, and there are remains of burnt houses 
everywhere. 

There are some street railway tracks running into the city, and 
during the fighting some of the cast-iron ties were removed and made 
into breastworks. The telegraph poles are of iron, and a great many 
of these were missing, having been torn down and used as defences. 
The natives always carry their market produce and a few other arti- 
cles into the markets early in the morning, and they hurry with their 
picturesque costumes, carrying everything either on the head, or in 
the case of a man it is carried by means of a rod of wood with two 
baskets, or whatever the receptacle is, and it is remarkable how strong 
these natives are in the neck, shoulders, and legs. The people have 
good faces generally, and do not look like a down-trodden race. 
They are beginning to have a wholesome respect for the American 
Soldado ; we are ahead of them in size and energy, but not in cun- 
ning. I did not have to walk far that morning. I met a native pub- 
lic carriage, called a carretita, and I should have called it the " one- 
hoss shay," or a relic of the Ark. Away we bounced, jounced, and 
spanked, into Manila, and I stopped at the Hotel de Oriente, for a 
cool drink and a little rest. There was a staff officer from General 
Lawton's staff having a drink of water, and I joined him. Finally I 
took a carriage and saw the paymaster. Of course he was glad to see 



3i 

me, and feeling better in pocket, I left him and drove along the 
Luneta to the Army and Navy Club, where I expected to meet this 
staff officer. I did not find him, so went and lunched at a first-class 
boarding-house on the San Luis road, near the water. This is the 
best boarding-house I have been able to find, and while there is not 
much show, everything is good. 

ist Reserve Hospital, Manila, P.I., October i, 1899. 

Dear Mother : The letter heading is not as pleasant looking as 
some I have sent to you. I have been sick with a fever for fifteen 
or sixteen days ; but it was not serious although uncomfortable. Just 
at present I am getting back my strength and trying to make my 
clothes fit once more. This hospital used to be a Spanish one and it 
is pretty comfortable and commodious. Where I am there is a large 
courtyard with the buildings grouped around and plenty of trees and 
grass to make it pleasant for the convalescents. The Fourth Infantry 
band used to give two or three concerts here in the courtyard every 
week, but the band has been ordered to join the regiment, so that we 
have lost some good music. 

While I was sick at Calamba, the headquarters of the Twenty- 
first, I got my appointment as first lieutenant, and lately I have been 
ordered to the Ninth, which is operating to the north of Manila. A 
friend of mine in the Ninth was promoted to the Nineteenth, and as 
he has very good reasons for wishing to stay in his old regiment, I 
am going to transfer with him ; and by the time you get this I shall 
be in the Nineteenth Infantry. The Nineteenth has not been in the 
islands very long, and two-thirds of the regiment are stationed on the 
island of Panay, at the city of Iloilo. It is said to be a very healthy 
city, and I should not mind going there and seeing more of the islands. 
The rest of the Nineteenth is near the city of Manila. Everything 
is quiet at present, and the rebels do not stand when our troops get 
after them. The rebels seem to be fighting for time ; that is, until 
our Congress meets. The general sentiment is one of a kind of pity 
for the poorly equipped Filipinos. We do not have much heart in 
the struggle and wish it would soon end. The word duty is small, 
but it makes the soldier fight, and it seems to underlie a great many 
actions in life. I have never been homesick, although I have thought 
many times of you dear ones, your joys, and happiness, for all should 



32 

be happy and joyful with the birds that sing about the beautiful house 
in Quincy. 

I received a letter from father while you were in London together, 
and you have returned to Quincy some time ago. This is the witch- 
ing time o' year in New England, and I can smell the orchards as the 
fruits are being picked. I would send for a barrel of apples if I were 
settled in the city, but one wants as little as possible to carry and look 
after in the field. My baggage has usually been a dress suit case, 
and a big piece of heavy canvas into which I can put blankets, fold- 
ing cot, and many other articles, and then the whole thing rolls up 
into a good solid roll, and two heavy straps hold it together. This 
roll and the dress suit case have never weighed much over fifty pounds, 
and an officer is allowed to carry 150 pounds in the field. All the 
marches one goes on in this country are so hard that one has to carry 
everything with him. I remember one march or expedition we went 
on with six companies of the Twenty-first stationed at Morang on 
the Laguna de Bay. About four or five hundred men started off, 
and the only transportation was four or five coolies or Chinos who 
are attached to each company and carry the rations. My outfit was 
the clothes I wore, my blouse, a canteen, haversack, revolver, and 
poncho. The haversack is supposed to hold rations, but there is 
always room for some comforts, such as toothbrush, soap, and maybe 
a pair of socks. I used to march, when it rained, in undershirt and 
poncho, keeping my blue shirt dry in the haversack so that I had 
a dry shirt to keep me warm for the night. In this march we had 
some hard walking, but we had enough to eat, and were always able 
to sleep in a native house at night. Some of these native houses are 
very comfortable, for they are, of course, built to meet climatic con- 
ditions, and they do it. I had a large house at Paete, where our march 
ended, and where we stayed two or three days. This house had 
a big, roomy ground plan and there was a kind of store on the ground 
floor. Back of this was a large room which was used as kitchen for 
my company. The living rooms were reached by a stairway on one 
side of the store. These rooms were a large front room, which I 
appropriated; a dining room, into which the staircase led; and finally 
a large kitchen with a stoop near by. Mahogany was about the only 
wood used in the building ; and I saw one gutter about eighteen feet 
long hollowed out of a mahogany log over two feet in diameter. So 



33 

you see that some of the woods which are considered so valuable by 

us are used for the commonest purposes in the lake regions. There 

are large quantities of fine timber in and about the mountains which 

skirt the lake, but like many other things in the islands, they need to 

be utilized and bought by some of our enterprising Yankees to show 

what there is in these forests. 

It is getting dark and I am getting tired, so that I will finish this 

another time. 

Monday, October 2, 1899. 

It has been cool and cloudy and I am beginning to get back my 
strength. The day in the hospital usually starts in at 6 a.m., my 
hombre, or man, bringing in a wash-basin with water to wash in, and 
about seven the day nurse relieves the night nurse and we have break- 
fast. During the morning we have an eggnog, and then lunch at 
twelve. The afternoon brings another eggnog, and about once a week 
we have ice cream. Supper comes at six, and it is dark at seven- 
thirty. The doctor comes in the morning and at night, but he has 
little work to do in this ward, for there are only eight or ten officers 
here. When I was here before, about a month ago, for three or four 
days, the ward was full. The rainy season is drawing to a close, and 
as there has been little, if any, campaigning, on account of the heavy 
rains, there has not been much sickness. 

Angeles, P. I., October 3, 1899. 

Dear Aunt Laura : This is a pleasant day here and there is 
enough breeze to offset the rays of the sun. The days are never 
very hot and the thermometer ranges near 90 in the shade during 
the hot part of the day between ten-thirty and three-thirty. One 
always needs a blanket at night, especially from midnight to day- 
light. The night dews are heavy, and the last time I was on outpost 
I slept near and under a bamboo thicket from which the dew fell so 
much on my poncho that I thought it was raining. The most uncom- 
fortable time is just before a storm or after it, as then the air is very 
humid. Angeles is a good-sized town, having a large church and 
a number of well-built houses. The town is on one side of the single 
railroad track which runs from Manila to Linguyan Bay and along 
which our troops have been fighting and slowly advancing. There 
are three streets connecting with a square on one side of the town. 

D 



34 

These squares in all the towns are near the church, and some of the 
best buildings are here. General Mc Arthur, in command of our bri- 
gade, — consisting of the Seventeenth, Twelfth, Ninth Infantry regi- 
ments, two batteries (3.2 calibre), twelve guns in all of the First 
Heavy Artillery, and troop of the Fourth Cavalry, — has the best 
house in town, and it is the finest house I have seen in any of the 
small towns outside of Manila. 

I have been with the regiment since the twentieth of September, 
but have not gotten entirely acquainted with my brother officers as yet. 
Those that I have met seem to be good fellows, and the colonel is 
certainly a fine man. His name is Liscum, and he was formerly one 
of the volunteer brigadier generals who were appointed last year. 
The Ninth has the centre of the town, with the Twelfth on the left 
and the Seventeenth on the right. There is a string of outposts all 
around the town in the important positions and a guard of one hun- 
dred men with some artillery guarding the railroad bridge which was 
partly destroyed by the insurgents when they retreated from the 
town. The brigade has been here nearly a month and it has been 
attacked heavily at least once. General Wheeler is here, and I had 
the pleasure of meeting him when he made his round of the outposts 
the other day. He is a very vigorous old man and makes his staff 

officers ride to keep up with him. 

Angeles, P. I., October 3, 1899. 

Dear Mother : Father wrote to me from the Royal Hotel, Edin- 
burgh, September 9, and I also have your letter of September 19, 
so that I have a good idea of what a pleasant, restful, and sightseeing 
trip you have had. How you must have enjoyed old Edinburgh and 
the pretty Isle of Wight. My impressions of these places are only 
taken from books, and I hope it will be my fortune to travel through 
some of the cities and countries of the Old World. I have seen some 
of the world coming to the Philippines, but this life is not for any 
sightseeing except looking for gugas or sighting a gun. This town 
is like nearly all other Filipino towns; but it has many well-built 
houses and a church which has some Italian Renaissance motives in 
it. There are two old bell towers on the front, from one of which I 
got a fine view of the surrounding country. Look at the map I sent 
home to father three months ago and you will see that we are getting 
into a higher altitude as we advance along the railroad. There are 



35 

mountains several miles to the east of this town, and then there is 

Mount Arayat which can be seen for miles and has a big saddle in 

the middle of it, made by two peaks, upon which the Ark could have 

rested. The country is very flat here, producing lots of sugar, and 

it is said that a great deal of tobacco is grown in the northern portion 

of the island. To-day is muster day, it being the last day of the 

month, and my company (Co. C) is on outpost duty at the edge of 

the town, so that I have been pretty busy getting my men posted at 

seven o'clock this morning, and then mustering what few men were 

left in camp, such as cooks and men " sick in quarters." It is about 

half-past four and I am going out to spend the night on outposts at 

a little after five. The insurgents have been very quiet since I have 

been here, and nothing has happened except the regular duties of 

troops in camp. 

Angeles, P.I., October 26, 1899. 

Dear Father: I left the hospital the 20th of this month and 
have been with the Ninth since then. Things are quiet here as far 
as the insurrectos are concerned. Night before last I was on out- 
post with part of my company (Co. C) and part of H Company — 
about seventy men in all. We had a line of four outposts along a 
road in front of the centre of our lines. The Seventeenth had their 
outposts to my right along a fringe of bamboo which is two or three 
hundred yards in front of the road I guarded. My headquarters 
were in some native huts at a railroad crossing. I had twenty-one 
men; a sergeant, three corporals, and my second lieutenant came 
down in the evening, having returned from a short pass to Manila. 
The orders at this central post were to reenforce the Seventeenth 
post on the bridge down the tracks. There are a good many men 
guarding this bridge and supporting some of the artillery. There 
is a telegraph station at the railway crossing, and in case any de- 
serters or Chinos wish to pass through our lines, they are held at 
whichever post they approach, and the brigade commander, General 
McArthur, is notified. In case a flag of truce approaches any post, 
it is met, and General Wheeler is telegraphed to. Everything went 
smoothly from seven one morning until seven the next morning, and 
I inspected the line of outposts at dusk. During the night it rained 
very hard and we could see signal rockets on the insurgent side. 
That may have meant something, but the rain may have dampened 



36 

their powder or their spirits. I have not heard any shots fired at the 
front since I have been here. Of course there is more or less target 
practice during the day, and a couple of bands are practising or play- 
ing part of the time. The larger part of the Ninth is camped along 
one street and have comfortable houses. My company is at the end 
of the street, where another street turns to the right and goes past 
General McArthur's headquarters to the plaza in front of the church. 
This church is well built and in it is the hospital, which accommodates 
a good many men. The troops have been advancing toward a val- 
ley along the tracks. The country is flat, well cultivated with sugar- 
cane and rice. I should say that there is not much, if any, work 
being done in these fields. There are numbers of bamboo trees and 
patches of banana {plantano — Espanol) trees scattered here and there. 
To the northeast and northwest are low hills and mountains, and it 
is near these elevations or some distance in front of them that the 
insurgents have their trenches. They command the railroad some 
distance to the north, and when the early morning attack was made 
here two weeks or so ago, I was told that the insurgents were thought 
to have carried cannon on cars and rushed them back when they 
were thought to be in danger of capture. The insurgents have sev- 
eral guns, some of which were taken from one of our small river 
gunboats which ran ashore and was captured. They have some 
Krupp 3^ -inch rifles. We are waiting here for supplies and ex- 
pect to move before long, as General Lawton has gotten into a 
town called San Isidro somewhere in the insurgent rear. It was 
reported that he had been attacked a day or two ago. Aguinaldo 
will have to put on his thinking cap when Lawton gets in his rear. 

Colonel Liscum is in command of the Ninth, and he is a very 
pleasant, lively old man. Captain Noyes is the adjutant and a Bos- 
ton man; Captain Harris is quartermaster and ordnance officer; and 
Lieutenant Mumsen, commissary. The lieutenant-colonel came from 
near Boston somewhere and is named Coolidge. He commands 
the First Battalion (my battalion), and Major Reagan the Second 
Battalion. A few officers are on detached service in Manila, namely, 
Major Lee and Captain Ramsay (who is captain of my company), on 
General Lawton's staff. Captain Finloy, the last quartermaster of 
the regiment, is going to recuperate in the States. Captain Anderson 
is sick in Manila. There are a few others in the States, and a new 



captain named Brewster has been promoted from the Seventh 
Infantry. Most of the officers are young, and there being so few- 
captains, the lieutenants get the companies. Second-lieutenant W. 
H. Waldron is with me in C Company, and he had had the company 
some time before I came. The company is one of the old ones, but 
it has changed almost entirely since the Cuban campaign, and most 
of the men are new. First-sergeant Bean is a good soldier, having 
seen twenty odd years of service, and the other non-commissioned 
officers, what little I have seen of them (about half of them being 
sick), are good men. I was very glad to get into the regiment, as it 
has a fine record in past fights, and there are so many young officers 
in it. With love to all, Yours affectionately, Ed. 

P.S. Captain Wilde of the battleship Oregon has been very 
courteous to me, and he has written me two or three letters. He 
wrote me once in Manila and again at Calambia, inviting me to visit 
his ship, and I was not able to go until I was convalescing in Manila. 
The Government launch runs daily to Cavite, and October 7 I took 
the trip and called on Captain Wilde. He was very kind to ask me 
to come to Hong Kong on the Oregon and took me downstairs in the 
cabin and showed me a large cabin which I could have for my use. 
The ship was going to be at Hong Kong to be overhauled and scraped 
and was coming back in three weeks. This was an unexpected invi- 
tation, and, as the ship was to sail that afternoon at four o'clock, I 
hustled back to Cavite on the trim little launch of the Oregon and 
telegraphed to Manila to get a sick-leave of two weeks, but it was 
too short a notice, and I had to give it up. This letter of Captain 
Wilde's was written before he sailed, and shows what a fine man he 
is. I hope I shall always be fortunate enough to meet old school- 
mates of yours who are anything like him. The Zaphro is a govern- 
ment supply vessel, and I could have gone on her, but I wanted to 
be with my regiment, and I did not think I would need the leave. I 
hope to get a chance to see more of the East before we return. 
Most of the regiments crossing the Pacific have stopped at Hono- 
lulu, and it is said to be a beautiful place. 

Angeles, P. I., November 2, 1899. 
Dear Christine : You must be at home now and enjoying golf, 
bicycling, and the theatre. The amusements are limited here, and 



38 

the only entertainment (if it can be called so) is the music from the 
bands in town and the buglers practising close by our house. A 
detachment of the Fourth Cavalry came into town last night, and the 
road to their camp leads through our yard to a field behind, so that 
we hear them going and coming nearly all day. The ponies are just 
being taken to be watered, having returned this afternoon from a 
scout upon which they went early this morning. The Thirty-second 
Volunteers came last night and are camped near the railroad station. 
The Twelfth Infantry, or part of it, went out early this morning, 
and we were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to reenforce them, 
so we had breakfast about six in the morning and have been waiting 
ever since to be called out. Bull-carts are passing to and fro nearly 
all the time and there is some noise all the time. Yesterday after- 
noon I called on Captain Andrews of Light Battery E, First Artillery, 
and had a pleasant call. This battery came over on the Ha?icock 
with us, leaving their guns behind in San Francisco to be brought over 
by another boat. I seem to be meeting men all the time who know 
father or have heard of him. Captain Brewster says that he knew 
Lieutenant Woods, U.S.N., and that he himself is descended from 
the Brewster family, although he lives in South Carolina. All the 
troops were issued (free) these enclosed badges which I send you 
and mother. They are to be worn on the front of the soldier's cam- 
paign hats, just above the hatband, with letter of company above and 
number of regiment on top like this. We wear them on the left 
breast, above the heart. It is the badge of the Second Division, ist 
Brigade, 8th Army Corps. The First Division is red, the Second, 
white, and the Third, blue. 

Christmas is approaching, and I find that I need a penwiper and 
writing case, one with two big pockets which fold over on each other, 
having a slit for blotting paper, with catch clasp to hold paper at the 
top of the outside fold, and the under fold or pocket having stiffen- 
ing in it of some sort to make a good rest to write on. I should also 
like a fountain pen with filler. Writing case to be a foot wide and 
sixteen inches long. 

With love and a heart overflowing with thankfulness to God 
that you are all so well and happy, I pray for you all every night 
whether on outpost or in camp, and send you all a Merry, Merry 
Christmas. 



39 

P.S. Kiss father for me and tell him that I would not be his son 
if I did not keep my grip. His cablegram came to me while I was 
on outpost, there being a field telegraph and telephone in the trench 
there. You can kiss mother and the kids also. -p. 

Bamban, P. I., November 25, 1899. 

Dearest Christine : Thank you many times over for your 
wishes. I can imagine how the weather is at home this time of the 
year. The days are warm about noon, and the nights are cool and 
pleasant. The only thing here is the malaria, which is very bad, and 
the men are catching it in good shape. There is not much excitement, 
and time hangs heavy on our hands. The mails come pretty regularly, 
and I get newspapers and letters with every mail. 

This is a small town near the Bamban River, with one main street 
and a good many broken-down houses. The headquarters are com- 
fortable and it is the best house in town. I heard the church bells 
ringing last evening, and to-night they were ringing near the little 
church. The bells are in an open-air belfry near the poorly built church. 
There must have been a larger church at one time, because the foun- 
dations are partly outlined near the new one. A town government 
has been started and a tax is being raised which is small, but enough 
to support a school when one is started. The horses are taxed one 
dollar, Mexican (fifty cents gold), a year, and the cariboo, ten cents, 
Mexican. 

There is a small market on the main street near the company, as 
well as a Chinese restaurant, and an American one near by. The 
natives sell fruits, soap, cloth goods, fish, and vegetables in their 
market, and it is interesting going through the place to see the picka- 
ninnies and the women in their prettily colored dresses. Red seems 
to be a part of every woman's dress, except the funeral dresses, which 
are black like ours. 

Bamban, P. I., December 28, 1899. 

My dear Mother : That California wine goes to the right spot, 
and I have to thank you for it. I got the box Christmas morning in 
Murcia. That night we had a good Christmas dinner at the lieu- 
tenant-colonel's house. We had chicken, plum pudding, cake, candy, 
and champagne, not to mention other fixings. Some books came 
from father, and I had a little mail, so that I was well provided for 



40 

Christmas. I had a kind of feeling of reverence for the day, and of 
course made some good resolutions and thought of what a time you 
were having at home " in ye ancient town of Quincy." 

The next morning our two companies received orders to move to 
Bamban, and we moved about two in the afternoon, coming to this 
town and relieving some companies of the Twenty-fifth Infantry 
which have been here. The railroad is running through from Manila 
to Dagupan, and the insurgents are scattered in small bands, or have 
hidden their arms and are very friendly. This town is larger than 
Murcia and dirtier. The Twentieth Infantry left the town in a dirty 
condition, and the men have been policing, or cleaning, with great 
gusto. This policing is something which has to be done for the 
health and comfort of the men in the command. The doctor wants 
the weeds cut down between and around the houses, as he says that they 
breed malaria. There are four posts on the interior guard, and one at 
a railway crossing a mile from headquarters, and another more than 
a mile, guarding a bridge over the Bamban River. I was " officer 
of the day " yesterday and borrowed the lieutenant-colonel's pony 
and inspected all these posts. I am going to get a Filipino pony the 
first chance I get, and the exercise will do me good. Of course one 
cannot ride at all outside the town unless with an escort, and it would 
not be safe to go at all in the outskirts of the town without arms of 
some sort. I have not fired my revolver once since I have been on 
the island, because I have never got close enough. A friend of mine 
named Love went back to the States wounded through the right arm, 
at Calamba. I was close to the fight, but in reserve that day. Lieu- 
tenant Love got mentioned in Munsefs Magazine, and he richly 
deserved it. Most of the fighting is over except in some small parts 
of the island, and we are garrisoning all towns near the railroad. The 
Ninth Infantry is in Tarlac province, with four companies at Tarlac, 
two here, one at O'Donnell, one at Capas, one at Marionas, another 
at Murcia, and two more going to garrison Concepcion. Many thanks 
for those California wines, which are soft and go gurgling poetically 
down one's throat. Lieutenant Lawton, the battalion adjutant, and I 
opened a bottle of Cognac not long ago, and I thought of you very 
sweetly. Lawton brought me a big box of candied fruits from you, 
with a nice letter and photographs, which I have put upon the wall in 
plain view. They are sweet remembrances, and I hope to be hugging 



41 

Morris and Foster before many moons. Foster writes a good plain 
hand and shows what a frank, equable disposition he has. Morris 
is going to be a lawyer, because his handwriting is not as good. I 
am so glad that you did not send me a quilted silk dressing-gown, as 
I would need a silk undershirt more, or a bathing suit, to keep cool 
with. The days are short and go by fast with little to break the 
monotony. 

I had to stop writing for supper and drill. We have supper 
about 4.30, drill at five, and retreat at quarter after five. The drill 
went well this evening on some open ground next the church. This 
church is a big bamboo house with a doorway in stonework, which is 
well proportioned. The church was evidently started in stone, and 
the people did not have the means wherewith to finish it. 

We are shut in more by some hills than we were at Murcia, and 
we have a large, well-made house ; that is, the roof is sound and there 
is plenty of room. I am writing in a small room next a large bedroom, 
with a dining room and kitchen in the rear. The dogs are a nuisance 
at night, and last night a lot of them bayed the moon in good melo- 
dious style. Our only light at night is candlelight, and that is so 
poor that I do not read much. We have two monkeys in the house, 
and they are funny to watch. I will bring a monkey with me as 
well as a parrot. 

With love and a Happy New Year to all. 

February 2d, 1900. 

My dear Father: The books have come all right, and the 
newspapers come with every mail. It would not be necessary for 
you to send me these books and papers to show me how thoughtful 
you are of my comfort and welfare. The backbone of the insurrec- 
tion is broken, but there are a number of guerilla bands, made up of 
ladrones or robbers in the country, and General McArthur, who com- 
mands the Second Division, has issued strict orders that no less than 
a squad shall go out scouting in the vicinity of the towns garrisoned by 
the troops. One company of the Ninth had two thousand rounds of 
ammunition and thirty-two rifles stolen a few weeks ago ; and we got 
an order to be exceedingly careful of our arms and take all care pos- 
sible. The natives in this town appear to be friendly to us, but there is 
no telling when they may cause trouble. We are trying to make a 
good clean town out of this place ; there is a council with a presi- 



42 

dente ; and a school started in the convent building near the church. 
The provost-marshal has charge of the issuing of cedulas, or certifi- 
cates of personal identification, for which every native has to pay ten 
cents. The other duties of the provost are looking after the general 
cleanliness of the town, and seeing that the council meets and runs 
smoothly. He is assisted by one of the enlisted men as interpreter, 
and another man as provost-corporal. I am living at headquarters 
now, and we are all messing together. This is a large building facing 
the plaza, or open space, near the church, and outside my window Old 
Glory is casting its shadow on the ground. The flagpole is not very 
tall, but it is strong enough for the small flag we have. Most of the 
natives touch their hats as they pass the flag, and I hope they will 
learn to understand more and more what the old flag means. There 
are two outposts a mile from headquarters. One of these is on a low 
hill, which was strongly entrenched with emplacements for three can- 
non. The insurgents had a line of trenches from this redoubt down 
along the river beyond the railroad bridge, where the other outpost is 
stationed. About half of the bridge was destroyed and had to be re- 
built with wooden cribbing and braces, so that it would not be diffi- 
cult to set it on fire and cause trouble if there was no guard there. 
There are a non-commissioned officer and eight men guarding this 
bridge, and every morning before coming off guard four of these men 
and a non-com. patrol down the tracks until they join with a patrol 
from the pueblo of Mabalacat. Yesterday morning one of the 
Forty-first patrolling up from Mabalacat was killed, and his comrades 
left his body to be outraged by the ladrones. The post on the forti- 
fied hill has been withdrawn and does guard duty near the pueblo. 
We have made two or three reconnoissances into the country since 
coming here, and Lieutenant Waldron and thirty-four men went by 
train to Capas, from which place a reconnoissance was made early 
this morning. Captain Brewster has Company B garrisoning Capas, 
and he found some rifles yesterday. Night before last I made a short 
scout up the main road, but found nothing. We received an order to 
examine all the houses in town, as it was suspected that the natives 
had secreted some arms, and recruits were being secretly raised in 
some places. So one evening the two companies made a house-to- 
house search and found nothing except several quarts of vino, a white 
concoction made out of rice, with a deceitful look, being as clear as 



43 

water. The vino is very strong, and some of our men in the Philip- 
pines have gone nearly crazy from drinking it. The natives drink it 
moderately at times, especially in getting worked up for a fight ; I 
have heard them celebrating and yelling under its influence. I might 
send some of this home to Brother Faxon to be analyzed. 

Three or four days ago I took fifteen men and scouted to a little 
barrio about one hundred metres from the pueblo. There are several 
small barrios or villages near Bamban, with the names of Bical, Pakalkal, 
Collabrassa, and Bancu. We will probably visit all these places and 
search for arms, but the natives will not hide arms where they can be 
easily found. Every company has four litter-bearers and can have 
two bull-cart drivers attached to it. These natives are paid about 
fifteen dollars gold a month and work for the company and head- 
quarters. There are several monkeys in the company, and two dogs, 
so that we have plenty of mascots. The companies are not allowed 
to run canteens themselves, but both companies have ginger ale and 
tobacco for the men, the proceeds of the sale of which goes into the 
company fund. The men are given "jaw-bone" (credit), and after 
pay-day they settle their accounts. Some of the other companies have 
over a thousand dollars of company-fund money, and my company 
has nearly seven hundred dollars. The men behave themselves well 
considering that it does get very monotonous here. Two men can be 
absent from a company on pass at one time, and it takes about five 
hours to get to Manila. Two trains run each way every day, one of 
these being for natives only. 

The ports in the islands have been opened now, and early in the 
morning and sometimes during the day, bull-carts are transporting 
rice and straw from the north to some seaport on Manila Bay. By the 
screaming of Filipino brats I should say that the natives were pros- 
pering and increasing, as the families are usually large. The woman 
does most of the work in pounding the rice and looking after the gen- 
eral welfare of the family. The rice is gathered in bunches and piled 
on the ground with the stems uppermost. After this is thoroughly 
dry, the kernels are separated by being trodden on by horses or 
shaken out by hand. Then the rice has to be hulled, and most of this 
is done by a trestle, with two clublike ends and a grip in the centre, 
and mortar made out of a log. This pounding sounds like firing at a 
distance. I keep making resolutions to brace up and learn Spanish, 



44 

but, like everything else, it needs energy and push. The flies are bad 
here and mosquitoes are on the rampage during the night. The hot 
part of the day is usually from noon until half-past three, and then 
it is very close and uncomfortable. You are trying to keep warm in 
such fickle weather as Boston has, and meanwhile we are suffering 
from the heat. This is a lazy life, and Captain Palmer, in com- 
mand, leads the life of an old army officer ; that is, takes everything 
philosophically. 

The school is started here and the children are learning the English 
alphabet as fast as possible. I can hear them pronouncing the letters ; 
but I suppose all school children are much alike in their rompings 
and personalities. These children are nowhere near as rough-and- 
tumble a husky lot as American children of the same age. I hope 
to see more of Captain Wilde and I suppose that Major Foote will 
rejoin the regiment shortly. With love and best wishes to all, and do 
not let all the Quincy girls get married before I come home. 

February 7, 1900. 

Buenas dias, mia madre guerida, or in other words, this is a beauti- 
ful morning and so "good morning, my dearest mother! " This is the 
best part of the day, and every one feels like stirring about and doing 
something until the midday heat strikes them. There is a tree in 
front of the window, near which I am writing, all covered with bright 
red blossoms, and every morning small flocks of birds with white stripes 
on the centre of their wings dispute with one another in a most mili- 
tary manner for the honey or whatever attraction the flowers may 
hold. A number of bull-carts have just passed through bound to the 
north for loads of rice and straw to be taken to Guagua, a seaport on 
the bay of Manila. These carts often return with nipa thatch and 
other building materials, showing that they intend to build and delve, 
and not go out to work the boom-boom or gun and cause trouble. 

The native women go pattering by the house with their high 
wooden shoes with only a leather toe with which to hold them on 
the feet. These shoes make them walk with the toes out, and so 
they shuffle along, usually with something in the way of a bundle on 
their heads. It is remarkable how nicely everything is carried in this 
manner and how well most of the women carry themselves. 

I took about fifteen men of my company and went scouting in the 



45 

country around Bamban. We went in the direction of the pueblo of 

Concepcion nearly three miles, to the two barrios of Bamban. Every 

little village had its sugar house and cabeza or head man. I found a 

man who acted as guide to our detachment and showed us the roads. 

We finally started back, and it began to rain, so we took shelter near 

a sugar mill. Every mill has a large shed of thatching in front of it 

under which the sugar-cane is crushed. We stayed here a short time 

and had good protection from the rain. It began to get late, and so 

we marched across the fields under the guidance of an obliging native 

and struck the railroad track, and after following this for a couple of 

miles we reached our quarters thoroughly wet. This is the first heavy 

rain we have had in about two months, and it reminded me of the 

rainy season. These scouting trips are made every two or three days, 

and all the houses and the surroundings are searched for any arms. 

The native priest ox padre comes here every week, and last week 

he married three couples in the little church. The ceremony was 

tiresome and a great deal of holy water wasted. The couples were 

united near the centre of the church by means of a single ring, which 

was alternately placed on the fingers of each couple and a bunch of 

coin was placed in the clasped hands of each couple and then returned 

to the plate. When I left the church, the couples were kneeling on 

pillows just inside the altar railing, and an embroidered cloth was 

passed over the head of the women and over the right shoulders of 

the men. 

March 10, 1900. 

My dear Christine : What a good time you have been having 
going to weddings and to the theatre. I shall not know how to 
behave when I go to a theatre once more. There is one theatre in 
Manila, called El Teatro Filipino, and a circus. I have never been to 
this theatre, and from what I understand, I have not missed much. 
I was taken to the circus by a thick-headed cochcro one day. I told 
the driver to carry me to the Luneta, and he evidently had designs 
on my person, for he took me to the circus by mistake. I paid ten 
cents to see the interior and would have paid more if it had been 
necessary, to see the outside of the tent. I had a programme and 
some peanuts and waited awhile for the show to commence. There 
was a band of cracked instruments which seemed like a German street 
band in distress. There was only one ring, and the show did not 



4 6 

appear to be as promising as a one-ring circus in the States. The 
appearance of the tent, etc., discouraged me, and so I told the driver 
to go toward the Luneta. He was probably satisfied, having enticed 
me into paying ten cents to see a possible monkey jump the fence. 
The driver had a malicious curl to his lower left-hand nostril and he 
was probably jingling his half of the ten cents. 

Time goes by very fast in this peaceful little pueblo. There is 
not much to break the routine of eating, sleeping, reading, and 
studying. I am boning — Chauncey will explain the derivation of 
boning — a little Spanish every day. 

These natives are an interesting people when one has been here 
awhile. There seems to be a number of them who can read and 
write and play the guitar. There are brass bands and some stringed 
orchestras. The natives do well on the guitar and mandolin. The 
other night four or five of them gave us a concert. The programme 
consisted of several Spanish tunes, one of the best being " Sobre las 
Olas," or " Over the Waves." We all appreciated " A Hot Time in 
the Old Town," and "After the Ball." 

The old flag is flapping lazily on the pole outside and it is a 
pleasant day. Kiss madre, and especially padre, who can never do too 
much for those he loves. 

April 4, 1900. 

My dear Father : The days slip swiftly by, and without very 
much change from one day to another. My company is here alone, 
and we are making preparations for the coming rainy season. The 
season does not really commence until the latter part of June or the 
first of July. 

I send a squad to the north halfway to Capas, and another squad 
halfway to the town of Mabalacat from the guard of ten men and one 
non-commissioned officer at the railroad bridge. Captain Sigsworth 
is at Mabalacat (to the south) with one company. His patrol toward 
Angeles of four men and a sergeant was ambushed two days ago. 
The sergeant was killed, and the men held their ground against ten 
ladrones (robbers) and killed several of them. There has not been a 
hostile shot fired into or very near this town for the last three 
months. Most of the other towns have been troubled by small 
roving bands. The ladrones have no good hiding places near the 
pueblo, and from all I can make out this has always been a quiet place. 



47 

The padre was here for breakfast and has gone to the church for 
some ceremony. He lives in a pueblo five miles above here and makes 
visits once a week to this pueblo. The padre is a native priest, 
and an interesting man with character written all over his face. 
There are no Spanish friars in the country now. Most of these 
frailes are congregated in the city, and the natives do not seem to 
have much use for them. I am rusty in Spanish, and so the padre 
and I do not carry on a lengthy conversation. Still, it is interesting 
to watch him, and generally, when he is here, the natives are coming 
about to kiss his hand. 

Our doctor has gone to town called Magalang for a week to 
minister to the sick in D company. He is an acting assistant sur- 
geon, and one of the best surgeons I have met in the army. 

My old Captain John Bordman, Jr., of First Massachusetts Heavy 
Artillery fame, has been having some interesting times in the island 
of Panay. 

With love and best wishes to every one who gathers round the 
fireside at home, or who takes 'an interest in your affectionate son, 

Ed. 

P. S. I have enjoyed those books very much, and they have 
helped many an hour which might otherwise have been monotonous. 

April 23, 1900. 

My dear Mother : I was up bright and early this morning, and 
after taking a refreshing bath under my coffee-can shower-bath, I 
am ready for another day. The days are much alike here, and noth- 
ing unusual happens. 

Yesterday I went to a baptismal feast given by one of the natives. 
There was a place covered with matting and ornamented with palm 
leaves in the front yard. Here the natives sat, and chairs were placed 
about on all sides, leaving a small space for dancing in the centre. 
I was given some sweetmeats and Muscatel wine as I entered, and a 
seat near some senoritas. The senoritas sat by themselves on one 
side and the men on the other. There were some pretty dresses in 
the crowd. One cunning little girl became quite friendly with me. 
She was a pretty little tot with brown shoes and blue socks. About 
half-past eleven I was invited into the house and sat down at the 
table with eleven senoritas. It was a little embarrassing for the 



4 8 

serioritas to have the honor of sitting down with El Commandante. 
The meal was very good, with some of the lightest cake I have ever 
eaten. Then we went out and there was some more dancing. Finally 
I was invited into the house once more and had the rest of the dinner. 
There were several courses of meats, and a salad with good bread ; 
in fact, it was a swell affair. I did not dance any, but left for a siesta 
about one o'clock. I understand that the dancing lasted until five in 
the afternoon. Then there was more dancing in the evening at one 
of the houses. 

May 27, 1 goo. 

My dear Father : This is a beautiful morning in this quiet 
little pueblo. I was up at half-past six, had a good shower-bath, and 
have just finished breakfast. There will not be much to do to-day, 
and, although it is Sunday, one would hardly realize it, as one day is 
much like another. 

The natives have been celebrating all this month the " Santa 
Cruz de Mayo." To-day is the last day of the fiestas. Last night I 
went to a fiesta and dance at a prominent citizen's house. The man 
was a captain in the guardia civil or native militia which Spain had 
in the islands. He owns a good deal of land cultivated with rice, and 
sugar-cane, and is named Capitan Feliz. I got to his house about 
half-past six, meeting the padre on the way. As we walked upstairs 
we went by a little shrine which is always in evidence at these fiestas. 
The host welcomed us at the door, and took us into the big front 
room. I had not been there long before we were invited to eat. 
During the course of the evening we ate four times, and as I had 
eaten a regular supper before going, I began to think of old Thanks- 
giving dinners. This is one of the good characteristics of the native ; 
he is extremely hospitable, and feels insulted if one does not eat some- 
thing. I finally left El Capitan and carried off a big green cocoanut, 
which he insisted upon my taking with me. 

To-night is the last of these fiestas, which last twenty-seven days. 
The town presidente is going to give this "shin-dig," and I suppose 
there will be many bonitas serioritas and plenty of " chow-chow." 

I expect that my company will be here during the coming rainy 
season. I am laying in a supply of wood and fixing leaves in roofs 
of the quarters. We have had thunder-storms lately, but most of 
the rain has gone through the mountains. 



49 

There is a chief of Igorrotes living near the town, and I bought 
some good specimens of arrows and spears from him. The arrows 
are vicious weapons, but not in it with a Krag. These Igorrotes will 
fight to the death if one of their number is murdered. 

I have seen some interesting faces among the natives. One 
old man, named Juan Milan, who was once a chief of ladrones or 
tidisanes or robbers, has one of the finest old faces I have ever seen. 
His mouth is sensitive, and his whole face and bearing show a man 
who is afraid of nothing. 

I am going to Manila early next month for a little change. If 
I am not mistaken, I gave you my insurance policy for safe keeping 
before I left the States. In case anything should Jiappen to me the 
money will go to your estate. It will be a small recompense for all you 
have done for me. 

These letters from China are not only interesting because 
of the side lights they throw on the American participation 
on the Chinese campaign, but because of the immense ad- 
vance in self-confidence and character which they exhibit 
in the make-up of the boy hardly two years from home. In 
the hard school of experience, in the monotony of camp, and 
the excitement of the campaign the boy had been trans- 
formed into the man and soldier. The soft clay had been 
moulded by the military potter and burned in the flame of 
battle into a wholesome, healthy, honest personality, into a 
soldier strongly imbued with a sense of duty, a gentleman 
patient under wrong and misconception, with a manhood 
strong enough to await that vindication which time would 
bring and conduct compel. They show a distinct advance 
toward maturity, and we see the sober, steady, clear-eyed 
young man looking back in some wonder at the boy he had 
just shed. 

Here and there we see in his moments of depression 
almost a prophetic anticipation of the fate that the future 
held for him ; and when we think what an honorable and 



5° 

useful career, inspired by a worthy ambition, opened up before 

the young soldier, it adds a keener pang to our regret for his 

untimely end. 

Peking, China, August 25, 1900. 

My dear Father : The allied forces left Tientsin August 3, 
about 13,000 strong. There were 12,000 Japanese, 3000 Russians, 
about 2500 Americans, and the rest English and a few French and 
Germans. We had fifty field pieces all told, and were pretty well 
equipped. The Japs were in advance of every one all the way, as 
they had the best transportation and were the finest troops for this 
campaigning. They did most of the fighting. 

We got into one good fight at a place called Yangtsin, where 
the American troops were under shrapnel fire, and lost eight killed 
and fifty wounded. My company was acting as an escort to the 
wagon-train, and so I did not get into this scrap. This wagon-train 
duty is tiresome enough, although it is an easy detail, as the men 
can load their equipments on the wagons and march light. We had 
pretty hard marching in the sun through miles of dusty roads 
and cornfields. These cornfields stretch as far as the eye can see, 
and prove that China is a fertile country. The men bore it well, and 
we had no men die from heat prostration. Most of the men who 
had to fall out rejoined in the evening. We "hiked " along through 
the same country, going through a large town. The fires several 
miles ahead told us where the Japs were, and we saw evidences of 
them along the road. The Sikhs — native Indian troops from Hong- 
kong and Shanghai — had a hard time marching in the heat of the 
day ; several of them died on the road. We finally reached the 
neighborhood of a large walled town called Yungtsin, where we 
expected a big fight. The Japs soon put the Chinese to flight, and 
we marched along to Peking, reaching there the night of the 14th. 
On the 17th we had a big fight coming into the imperial grounds, 
and finally reached the gates of the palace grounds. We went back 
and camped two days in another place, and came back here near the 
imperial palace and have been quietly camping here since the 19th. 
There is not much to do now except the usual guard and camp duty. 

We are camping in a compound between two big gates. All the 
buildings here are covered with beautiful tiles of a yellow greenish 
color. This denotes that these are imperial buildings. This is the 



5i 

first time that any foreigners ever entered these courts. In fact, two 
months ago it was as nearly impossible to reach this place as to get 
to the North Pole. 

The royal family and the government have fled into the moun- 
tains and have not been heard from since we took the city. All the 
missionaries and members of the legations have been sent to Tien- 
tsin, and I suppose we are being kept there to help settle matters 
and look out for the interests of Uncle Sam. The city is strictly 
patrolled and guarded by the allied forces. The walls are in some 
places one hundred feet thick at the base and sixty feet high, being 
made of large bricks banked with earth. The Chinese made their 
best stand at Tientsin, having four arsenals there and plenty of 
guns. We found a Krupp field battery of four guns in splendid 
condition and two small field pieces in Peking, but no large arsenal 
has been found yet. Then Peking is not as rich a place as Tientsin. 
A seaport town seems to thrive more than an inland, exclusive city 
like Pekin. 

The roof is the best part of the Chinese architecture, and there 
are some beautiful examples of tiled roofs in this vicinity. 

The weather is pleasant now and the nights are cool. 

I hope that things will be settled satisfactorily before long, 
although I imagine we will stay here this winter. 

Peking, China, October 24, 1900. 

My dear Mother : My company has been in camp in the 
grounds of the Temple of Agriculture for three or four days. The 
company with four others relieved the Fourteenth, which went to 
Manila. Living in Sibley tents is not as pleasant as the former 
quarters we had at the yamen or prince's house. I expect to suffer 
some from the cold in this tent, but there are others in the same fix, 
and we must make the best of it. The morning is the busiest part 
of our day, with two hours of drill, one at 7.30 to 8.30 and the other 
at 9 to 10. Then non-commissioned officers' school at 1.30. The 
day closes with a parade in the evening at 5. The darkness comes 
on at 5, and one generally goes to bed early in order to have a good 
rest before reveille at 6 in the morning. This morning all the regi- 
ment here in Peking, nine companies, was marched by a biograph, 
and I expect you can see me commanding the second company from 



52 

the head of the column. Go to Keith's some time, if you can, and see 
my latest photograph. I am going to see some English horse rac- 
ing and games this afternoon, so I will finish this when I come back. 

I went to see the races, but lost my way and had a walk of three 
miles in and about the Sikh camp. They are encamped opposite 
us in a large compound. All these buildings and temples are sur- 
rounded by walls, and sometimes a large area is walled in. 

Generals Chaffee and Wilson are here, but I suppose that Gen- 
eral Wilson will go back, as there is nothing for him to do. I re- 
ceived a London Times yesterday, and the other English newspapers 
at the camp before moving here. The account of the fight at Tien- 
tsin on July 13th was interesting, and Major Foote and Colonel 
Coolidge both enjoyed it. With love and best wishes to the family, 
and kind remembrances to Miss Freeman and any of my other friends 
you may chance to meet. 

November 4, 1900. 

My dear Father : Everything is dusty and grimy in my tent 
as the results of the confounded dust, which grits into everything here 
when the wind begins to blow. Your last letter gave me great 
pleasure in thinking I had done my duty well enough to feel that all 
your shingling and care spent on me, to you at least did not seem 
wasted. We all did our duty to the best of our ability and came out 
of a bad mess better than I thought we would. I don't believe in 
exposing myself unnecessarily, as the British seem to do at times. 
" Discretion is the better part of valor" in a great many instances. 
We all feel anxious to get back to " God's country," but must make 
the best of it, always thinking that we might be living under worse 
circumstances, as some of our troops are living in the Philippines at 
present. 

You must have had a good rest abroad, and also broadened your- 
self still more through observation at the Paris Exposition. I have 
my doubts of ever being able to travel much on the Continent unless 
on duty. It may all come in time if fate leaves me unmarked long 
enough. You must not be astonished if I begin to use big words and 
flowery expressions, as I have been reading Macaulay's " History of 
England " lately, and that, combined with the flowery feelings in this 
crooked yellow kingdom, is enough to made anybody feel so. The 
Chinese have queer conceptions of how to get rid of the devil. 



53 

The road from Tientsin to Peking is very crooked because the devil 
can only go in a straight line, and therefore cannot catch anybody 
who takes a crooked way. My own impressions have always been 
that the devil was indifferent as to the crookedness of anything. 
The Peiho River is crooked enough to discourage the devil. I 
enclose a map which I got a day or two ago from a Chinese book- 
seller. It is an example of Chinese map-making, and made by the 
authority of the present emperor. I marked on the map the stations 
of the Ninth here m Peking. 

Camp Reilly, Peking, China, November 4, 1900. 

My dear Mother : The package I am sending to you via the 
next mail was the covering to a large cushion which I found the men 
kicking about in the dirt, when I was living in the house of the 
Eighth Imperial Chinese Prince. It is a handsome piece of embroi- 
dery even now, and characteristically Chinese. I am sending it to 
you to make a cushion for me when I return. 

The wind started in to blow early this morning, and it is just 
beginning to abate somewhat. These wind and dust storms are 
disagreeable features of Peking. Life goes along slowly but pleas- 
antly here, and in fact it goes so anywhere if one is healthy. I 
would much rather be here than in the Philippines, on account of 
the good climate. The junior officers of the regiment have to attend 
a school of instruction twice a week. This is a day of instruction. 
We are working on map-making at present, so you see we are 
learning something all the time. 

To an American, or any other foreigner, there is little that 
appeals in the Chinese character. He is unprogressive, but pains- 
taking in what he does. The fault is not with the people, but with 
the governing class, whose object is to keep the ordinary class in 
subjection by not adopting modern ways and means. The Chinese 
all look alike at first, but little differences in dress or extremes of 
dirtiness distinguish some individuals from the mass. This word 
mass seems to apply to the Chinese in some of the streets, for they 
crowd over one another. The markets are in the open on the side 
of the street. On a big street " confusion " worse confounded is 
generally seen. The truckmen and others squat all over the street, 
leaving hardly room enough for a passageway. The Chinese seem 



54 

to like the side of the road which is under American protection, as 
all the truckmen, etc., are selling on our side. The women dress 
much like the men, but their feet are all small. I have seen a 
woman about five feet eight, with feet so small and stunted that 
she had to be assisted about. The women also have fuller faces 
than the men, wear their hair bound at the back of their heads in 
a pseudo-Grecian knot, and wear a shorter outside garment than 
the men. The best way to tell them is by their small, stunted feet. 

There are some beautiful things for sale in the way of furs, 
silks, embroideries, and vases in these little outdoor places. 

Nearly all the officers in this camp are messing together to the 
number of ten. Major Foote is in command at Tientsin of Com- 
panies C and G; A, D, E, F, and M are here, I at Tungchow, K in the 
Imperial City, and the others, B, H, L, scattered in different places 
doing guard duty in the Chinese and Tartar districts. 

With love and best wishes to you all and may you have a happy 
Thanksgiving dinner. 

P.S. Your last letter had one sentiment which will never grow 
cold in my heart, and that is, although others may think Quincy 
is dull, it is home to you and me at any rate. Ed. 

Camp Reilly, Peking, China, November 25, 1900. 

My dear Father : Mail ! What visions of the goings and com- 
ings of loved ones or friends arise in one's mind, even at the thought 
of it. One can think of nothing else while the mail is being read, 
and no letters are put to one side until they have been read at least 
two or three times. 

The package you sent me came three or four days ago, and I 
began to wear the underwear right away, as well as the cardigan 
jacket. Everything on the enclosed list in your handwriting has been 
received. There were two pair of high hunting-boots mentioned and 
some wristlets, but I presume that you did not intend to put them 
in, as the package had not been tampered with, and these articles 
were missing. Your thoughtfulness makes me very comfortable for 
the coming winter. We have a dust storm here every time a new 
moon comes. These storms are pretty bad, and you could not have 
sent me a better thing than these goggles. In fact, the things you 
sent me were just what I wanted. It is next to impossible to keep 



55 

things clean in a thin tent, as the dust of ages soon collects on chair 
and table. Living in a conical wall tent makes me think of my old 
room at home when I used to bump my head on the ceiling. That 
was different at home, for then my head would give and not the ceil- 
ing. Here it is vice versa. I understand that we officers are all 
going to have large hospital tents and these can be made very com- 
fortable. The worst time of the day is getting up in an ice-cold tent 
at reveille, 6.15. As soon as the fire gets started and the sun comes 
out, it is very pleasant here. One morning I broke an inch of ice on 
my water-bucket, but that has not happened again, I am glad to say. 
I told the boys that was nothing, as John Adams used to go swimming 
in water after breaking the ice. They did not believe what I said, 
strange to say. 

Thanksgiving is approaching fast, and we are all invited to attend 
a reception at the consul's house on that day. The companies will 
have a better dinner than usual. I shall think of you all gathered 
around the festive board, but I will have the best digestion the next 
day. You have got three representatives of the most important ele- 
ments, namely, the Law, the Church, and the State, and I suppose 
that Mossie or Fossie will be an artist or a professor. Christine will 
have to marry some rich nobleman in order to cap off things. 

Our only excitement here in the evening is a quiet little game of 
poker. I generally come out even in the long run. It is a good way 
to study character, as some human characteristics are only devel- 
oped through a poker game. 

The enclosed sketch I made while camping in a compound of the 
Forbidden City. I sent another sketch to mother a few weeks before 
I made this one. 

You asked me in your last letter to let you know who was recom- 
mended in the fight at Tientsin. All the officers were recommended 
I believe for brevets, namely, Major Lee, who deserves all he gets, 
and is one of the best officers I have met in the army ; he is now at 
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas ; Captain Noyes, who was badly wounded 
and while in such condition crawled and swam a mile or so back for 
reinforcements, this under constant fire ; Captain Frazier, who man- 
aged his men well; Lieutenant Lawton, who was one of the best 
friends I had in the regiment, and who deserves a medal of honor 
and all he gets, having exposed himself in a hell of fire to bring up 



56 

reinforcements ; Captain Brewster and Lieutenant Waldron both 
deserve brevets. Lieutenant Lawton is the only officer who really 
is entitled to a medal of honor according to the regulations govern- 
ing the giving of it. The rest of us, Lieutenants Rethers, Clark, 
Loeb, Nagle, and myself only did our duty, and were recommended 
for coolness and doing our duty well under severe and trying circum- 
stances. 

December 5, 1900. 

My dear Father : Retreat is over and another night has begun. 
The men are getting their supper now, and I expect to have mine in 
a short time. A big mail came into camp a few days ago, and I got 
a whole armful of Boston Heralds, Suns, Outlooks, and Army and 
Navy Journals mixed together, besides several letters from you loved 
ones at home. 

Your letter was full of sound advice, and I appreciate everything 
you say. You cannot expect me to become efficient in everything 
after a service of two years and four months. Most of this period 
has been good, hard, rough service in the field. It has been very 
practical, and much better than any ten years of theoretical work. I 
think that General Bates will agree with me in this, or any other expe- 
rienced officer. There are old-maidish, finicky men as well as women 
in this world, and I'll bet that General Bates has had experience with 
such men among his brother officers. This matter of mine did not 
hurt my standing in the regiment, and I did not let any one think 
that I felt it by my outward appearance, although it rankled my 
stomach for a time. The Chinese think that the seat of understand- 
ing is in the stomach. As far as I can make out by the way I am 
treated, I did not lose much prestige. I have had command of an- 
other company, D, since then for over a month, and everything is 
running smoothly. You might see the inspector-general spoken of 
in the long enclosed letter, as he is in command of Fort Leavenworth 
now. His name is J. M. Lee, and he is lieutenant-colonel of the 
Eleventh Infantry. He was major in the Nintji at the time he made 
this report. He is a capable officer and one of the most interesting 
men I ever met. He was also the most popular officer in the regi- 
ment. I hope you will meet him, and if you do, give him my kindest 
regards, and tell him we all miss him. Give him a drink of whiskey 
for me in remembrance of the "wee drop" I gave him in the nerve- 



57 

racking fight at Tientsin. He always reminded me very much of 
you, and this made me especially attached to him. 

We suffer some from the cold here, living in tents, but it is 
healthy, and I never felt better and consequently lazier in my life. 

I saw a draft of the two new army bills yesterday, and they are 
very good. It means rapid promotion if either bill goes through. 
Please do not worry any more about my troubles. I am young and 
soon forget them, although they are lessons which do not have to be 
repeated. Besides, "we all have troubles of our own." With love 
and best wishes, with a Merry Xmas from Ed. 

Camp Reilly, Peking, China, December 24, 1900. 

My dear Mother: 

" 'Twas the night before Christmas, 
And all through the house 
Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse," etc. 

We have a holiday to-morrow as far as drills go, but guard duty 
goes on continuously, day and night. I am thinking of all r, j\\ loved 
ones at home, and wish that I could get hold of Aladdin's lamp, and 
fly swiftly with the wind to see you all. Sweet thoughts of home 
cluster about me, and I will pray to God with more than usual fer- 
vency to-night to protect you all. I have received many kind mes- 
sages lately from you all, and especially from father, whose equal in 
nobleness and thoughtfulness I have yet to find. You may all rest 
assured that I have recovered my standing in the regiment, and hope 
to be able to preserve my health and do my duty faithfully for many 
a day to come. I cannot express myself, as my heart is filled to over- 
flowing with tender thoughts of loved ones far away. 

You may be interested in one day's summary of events, so I will 
tell you what happened to me to-day. I got up at 7 a.m., got ready 
for breakfast, and signed the morning report of the company ; as you 
must know, I am commanding a company with eighty men present, 
and a daily report of it has to go into the adjutant's office every 
morning. We had breakfast at 8, and at 8.45, being on guard, I had 
to make a three-mile patrol with a non-commissioned officer and two 
men around the inside of the wall enclosing the American camp. I 
got back from that about 10, and had to do some work about my 



58 

guard. I was relieved from guard at 11.45, an d had dinner at 12. 
The rest of the afternoon, from 1 p.m. to 4.30, I did some work, read 
some, called on one or two of my brother officers, and kicked a foot- 
ball about for exercise. We had retreat at 4.30, which formation 
ends the soldier's day. The first sergeant calls the roll reports to me, 
and I dress the company and bring them to " parade rest," while the 
bugles sound the retreat. Then the company is brought to atten- 
tion by me, and I order the first sergeant, " Dismiss the company," 
return my sword, and report the company to the adjutant. The men 
have supper at 5 p.m. I inspected the supper this evening, and the 
company had a substantial meal of coffee, excellent fresh bread, and 
macaroni stewed with tomatoes. The company cooks were baking 
chickens for to-morrow's company Christmas dinner. I had dinner 
at 6 p.m., and we all sat about at the mess, talking about things in 
general, with Mr. Stephen Bonsai as a guest. Since dinner I have 
been reading the newspapers I got in the last mail, as well as those 
extracts of the siege of Peking legations sent me by father. Please 
thank him for me and tell him that they are intensely interesting. I 
also read of Harvard's victory over the Indians and over Pennsyl- 
vania. I hope to read in a couple of months of the victory over 
Yale. There is a tattoo check roll-call here at 8.30 p.m., and I 
attended that a short time ago. Taps has gone at 9 p.m, and the 
men are all quiet and sleeping well, I trust. I shall soon be dream- 
ing of you all on my little cot. We officers have been living for some 
time in comfortable, roomy hospital tents about fourteen feet long 
and the same in width. I have two windows in the tent, a good 
stove, rugs and matting on the brick floor, two bookshelves with a 
few books and gloves, etc. My table is in the centre of the tent with 
the door facing south ; a washstand is near the door, with a case of 
mineral water near at hand. I have one easy-chair and two cane- 
bottomed chairs. The tent is lined throughout, except the roof, with 
matting, so you can imagine that I am fairly comfortable for a sol- 
dier. The fierce north wind is blowing the dust about, and I fear 
will blow through old Santa Claus' whiskers to-night. But I must 
soon retire to give Santy a chance to visit me if the "Old Boy" 
comes this way. So good night, with lots of love and a Merry, Merry 
Xmas and a prosperous New Year to all. Aff., 

Ed. 



59 

January 3, 1901. 

My dear Father : The last mail brought me a good many Har- 
per's Weeklies, Leslie's, Boston Heralds, Stins, and three books from 
Arthur and Chauncey, besides several letters. Christine must be hav- 
ing a gay time making sofa pillows for Harvard friends and gavoting 
around in society. Mother wrote to me and said that she, the boys, 
and Christine were going abroad for a few months. That is good 
news, as Christine and the boys will find that there is some other place 
on this globe besides Bosting. I suppose that Christine has learned 
to say "Yes " in several languages. Chauncey was very cheerful in 
his letter, but this is nothing new, and he seems to wish to go ahead 
with that same spirit. Things must be bright to you this New Year, 
and I hope they are. 

I also got a letter from Captain Finley of my regiment, who was 
invalided home from the Philippines last year. He is a good solid 
man, with no bluff or bluster about him. It gives me pleasure to 
think that a brother officer of experience takes such an interest in 
me. 

The camera you sent me is in Manila in the Depot Q. M.'s office, 
and I will get it in the spring or as soon as a transport can land sup- 
plies at Tongku. Major Foote could easily have brought it to Tien- 
tsin with him, as I first met him there a few days after the fight. 
You may set your mind at rest in regard to my late difficulty, because 
I was in command of 100 men of my regiment in an expeditionary 
force on a 73 mile march through the country. There were two 
pieces of horse artillery, 150 cavalry, and my detachment of 100 men. 
Our destination was a walled town about 40 miles southeast of Peking. 
The first day we marched 27 miles to Maton. We got into camp 
about 8 o'clock in the evening, and had to pitch the conical Sibley 
tents and get a bite to eat. There were French and English troops 
there. The next morning we got started at 7.30, and we went a short 
distance to the bank of a river, which had several inches of ice on it. 
We got dirt and old cornstalks, and passed all the animals safely 
across. Then by means of long ropes we pulled over all the wagons 
and artillery. The column marched 18 miles farther to the walled 
town, and went into camp on a smooth ploughed field near the town. 
The men were pretty stiff this day, but that night I had them all bathe 
their feet well and rub old yellow government soap on the soles. Just 



6o 

as we marched up an hour after the cavalry and wagon train and 
artillery, some German troops came into the town and an officer had 
a consultation with Lieutenant-colonel Wint, Sixth Cavalry, who com- 
manded our expedition. The German evidently told him that they 
had scouted the country thoroughly and had the people well bluffed. 
[The next morning we pulled out at 9.15 and marched about 15 
miles to within half a mile of the large walled city of Tungchow. 
Here we had a pleasant camp.] This last enclosed in brackets should 
come after what follows. After leaving the walled town we only 
marched a short distance to the town of Sachi, where we had all the 
afternoon and night to rest in. 

While we were at Tungchow, three or four of us saw the New 
Year in at Captain Palmer's quarters across the river from our camp. 
Captain Palmer is stationed here guarding supplies with his company. 
There are representatives of all nationalities here, as this is an impor- 
tant place when the river is no* frozen. There were several English 
officers, seven Americans and a civilian. We saw the New Year in in 
great shape and voted it a howling success as we recrossed the river, 
going back to camp at 1.45 in the morning. The next morning we 
broke camp at 8, and pulled the wagons and artillery across the 
river and the canal, which runs from here to Peking. We marched 
after crossing the river, about 16 miles back into camp, arriving home 
about 3.30 p.m. 

It was a splendid trip, with good roads and the finest kind of bik- 
ing weather. It was a good experience for me, as I personally got 
the necessary supplies and we were well supplied with four mule 
wagons. We had ten days' rations, fifteen thousand extra rounds 
ammunition, six conical wall tents, stoves, axes, etc., for same. Second- 
lieutenant Bains of M Company went with me, and we had a conical 
wall tent of our own and messed with the men. The men had three 
or four blankets apiece, overcoats, haversacks, canteens, belts with 
ninty-nine rounds, and a bayonet. We always marched in the rear, 
for we could not hope to keep up with cavalry or mule wagons. I 
had an escort wagon loaded with a day or two's rations, extra ammu- 
nition, and the men could put haversacks and overcoats on this wagon. 
Besides this wagon I had an ambulance. During the day we marched 
very lightly, most of the men going without overcoats, and all bedding 
going on the wagons ahead. I had a bedding roll with mattress, two 



6i 

comforters, two blankets, a heavy blanket, lined canvas coat, and a 
change of underwear. During the day, after eight o'clock until sun- 
down, the weather was perfect and sunny and bright with just enough 
twinge to make marching comfortable. I wore that cardigan jacket, 
and a suit of that underwear you sent me. I also had the goggles 
in my pocket in case the wind blew the dust about. 

It started to snow early this morning and there is nearly an inch 
on the ground now. It is beginning to get warm again and I am 
afraid it will turn to rain a la New England. I have a good pair of 
rubber boots which may save me from catching cold. You may be 
sure that I will preserve my health, as I have a good deal to live for, 
even if I am an atom. 

We are all interested in what Congress will do in regard to the 
army, as any person with sense can see that if we are going to be a 
world power, we must have at least 75,000 or 100,000 men in the 
regular establishment. This increase- would make me a captain. I 
appreciate what an opportunity for promotion there will be in the 
next few years. As long as I have company, or good books, and 
some others to think about besides myself, I am contented. I think 
that this trait of adapting one's self to circumstances and making the 
best of them is one of our best American characteristics. You might 
forward this to mother after reading it. Please do not forget to for- 
ward my love with it. 

February 4, 1901. 

My dear Father : Mother sent me her English address, but 
I think I will send all my letters through you so that you and Arthur 
can read them and send them along. I am leading a quiet, healthy, 
temperate life and trying to do my duty. Everything that you have 
mentioned in your letters as being sent to me has gotten here safely. 
I just finished reading " Eben Holden " and enjoyed that a great 
deal. I am lending the books you sent me to nearly every fellow 
here in camp. The magazines are always appreciated by me and the 
company, for I distribute them among the men. There is a good 
supply of reading matter in camp now. The men have a reading 
and recreation room, where they are furnished papers and magazines, 
hear lectures, and go to church. I have a second lieutenant with 
me now and he has to be sat on occasionally. I have heard of one 
old cavalry captain remarking that he had enough troubles in his 



62 

company or troop without having a second lieutenant to bother 
about. I must have been the greenest of green second lieutenants 
when I first joined, and strange to say, I don't know it all yet. 

February 4, 1901. 

My dear Mother : Another day of the usual routine will soon 
be over, and something has been learned. One learns something 
every day, or at least he should, because there is so much to be seen 
where so many nations are represented as there are in Peking. Last 
Saturday morning General Chaffee took his staff, 128 men from 
the Ninth, our band, and a detachment from both the battery and 
cavalry, to the funeral ceremonies for Queen Victoria. All the 
nations were represented by small detachments of troops. There 
were British, Sikhs, Punjabees, and Rajputs from India, with a 
detail of "Jackies"; to the right of the British was a picked body 
of Germans, splendidly drilled men ; then came the French and 
Italians and Japanese and lancers from the Sikhs. They all had 
their best bibs and tuckers on, and it was an interesting sight. The 
Royal Engineers of the English were the best uniformed men there. 
We cut more of a practical looking figure than anything in our regu- 
lation overcoats, fur caps, and gloves. While the services were going 
on, a small gun was firing salutes in a compound near at hand. It 
made me think of the day last August when we fought our way with 
a gun from Reilly's Battery into this same imperial compound, only 
a gate from the palace. Some of the imperial buildings are going to 
rack and ruin, and the wide areas and large buildings look forlorn 
and deserted. 

I received news of Chauncey's death by cablegram about ten 
days ago. You know what an example he was to me with his cheer- 
fulness, which nothing seemed to spoil. I never could look on him 
as being poor, for he was a gifted man and would have been success- 
ful. I think that I was probably with Chauncey as much as any one 
through the happy thoughtless days of boyhood, and the hopeful col- 
lege years. He has not lived in vain as far as I am concerned, for 
he always made me forget myself ; and he will always be a shining 
example of patience to one who loved him as brothers only can when 
they are brought up in such a sweet home, and with such a father 
and such a true mother as you have been. 



63 

I got a letter from Christine mailed from Gibraltar about eight 
weeks ago, and I can see that she is having a gay time, for it was 
short, but sweet. Do not let her marry some duc-de-duc unless he can 
provide father with a wooden bowl and spoon in the chimney corner. 
I hope you will all have a healthy trip and see many things before com- 
ing back. The boys must be at the mischievous age at present. You 
managed me pretty well and I must have been a tough nut. Father 
sent me a picture of Christine and one of Morris as a baseball player 
with toothpick shanks (his legs look like a Sikh's or native British- 
Indian soldier) and Foster, whom I am sure will be a husky football 
player and spread terror to an opposing team with his flaming locks. 
I suppose there will be many changes when I come back. There is 
some consolation in thinking that all the girls won't be married, at 
any rate, and there may yet be some with "brass button craze." I 
long and hope for the day when I can walk up to the old house in 
Quincy and turn the ice-cream freezer once more. With love and 
best wishes to Christine, the boys (no longer kids), and yourself. 

February 14, 1901. 

My dear Father : Old Boreas is gnashing his teeth and whistling 
outside in great shape this afternoon. We have been having a wind, 
and consequently a dust storm, for the last few days. I have not 
been out doors any more than necessary, but have been trying to 
pass the time away by reading and writing. Nearly everything you 
mention in your letters, so thoughtfully and generously sent to me, 
has reached me. The Christmas box and the socks and handker- 
chiefs have not come. The bundles from England came about two 
months ago, and I acknowledged the receipt and have been using the 
articles ever since. The best presents you could have sent me are 
those fourteen or fifteen books I have received from you, namely, 
" Crittenden," " Foes at Law," " Lucid Intervals," " Eben Holden," 
" London to Ladysmith via Pretoria," " Filibusters," " A Bicycle of 
Cathay," " The Girl and the Governor," " An Opera and Lady Gras- 
mere," "The Infidel," "The Mississippi Valley in the Civil War," 
" The Eagle's Nest," " Who Goes There ? " Conan Doyle's book on the 
" Great Boer War," " Springtown on the Pike," and " Father Prout's 
Reliques," which Robin Legs sent me. The mail last night brought 
me an armful of Boston Heralds, Suns, Harpers, Leslie's, McClure's, 



64 

and Mwisey's Magazines, besides your enclosures from mother, 
Christine, and the boys. I am lending my books to every one in camp 
who wants to read. I brought a few books from the Philippines with 
me, so that with these and your generous supply I am the best sup- 
plied man in camp in reading matter. My correspondents seem to 
be faithful also because it must be interesting to hear from this far- 
away Land of the Dragon. I sent you yesterday a Chinese exami- 
nation scroll with a Boxer flag (found at Tientsin) and some Chinese 
artillery maps (taken from near an old camp last September in the 
Forbidden City), an imperial table-cloth, and some embroidery. One 
can buy magnificent fur coats or furs at ridiculously small prices. 

Governor Wolcott was a great man in many respects, and in his 
death the state and the country lose a man who would have made him- 
self more eminent as years went by. His oldest son, Roger, is a 
splendid fellow, who looks as his father used to. 

Mr. Jackson must be an agreeable man, and such a one as would 
make a good friend. There is not much to write about, as we get 
little news. You get much better news than we do in the papers. 
It looks now as though we would go to the Philippines in the spring. 
Old Congress has been doing too much shilly-shallying over the 
Army Bill. The Secretary of War must be an overworked man 
these days. 

You have probably read in the papers of the good management 
in the American section of this city. It is all true, for on our side of 
any dividing street which separates us from the German section, all 
the Chinese shops and "squat" pedlers are doing their usual busi- 
ness. The Germans have an arrogant appearance at times, but theirs 
is an armed hand, and they have more grievances to be satisfied. 
We have had little opportunity to study the other troops carefully, 
but I hope that I have kept my eyes open. The Japanese have been 
making a thorough inspection of our camp, and ask all sorts of 
questions. We should do the same, and perhaps somebody has been 
detailed for this purpose. Legation Street has all, or nearly all, the 
legations on it, and here one sees the soldiers of all nations. 

P.S. A Dr. Seamans is here in camp, and he wishes to be remem- 
bered to you, as he met you on the New England while you were 
returning home last summer. He says that you gave some 



65 

W. C. T. U's a good raking over the coals, and that he for one 
enjoyed the process. Ed. 

Liscum Barracks, Tientsin, China, March 17, 1901. 

My dear Mother : This is a fitting day to write letters, and my 
heart is filled to overflowing to be with you all again. This peaceful 
Sunday is a great contrast to the trying days of last July, when I was 
here before. I am back commanding my own company now, and 
imbued with a spirit of ambition to have as good a company as any 
in the regiment. I have struck some hard snags since I have been 
in China, but I knew I would pull away from them. I have never 
been discouraged, for who could be with such a man as father backing 
me up. I have only been here a short time, and do not expect to stay 
here in China much longer, as our services will be needed in the 
Philippines. This regiment has a proud record, and I am thankful 
I got promoted into it. I have shaken off the black mantle which 
was beginning to cover my shoulders, and feel that I am vindicated 
by commanding my old company (C). 

I have not written to you much about Chinese art, and so I must 
satisfy some of your artistic hunger. As you can imagine, I have 
had an opportunity of a lifetime to study and observe a small part 
of China. Old missionaries, who have lived here for twenty years 
or more, say they do not yet understand the Chinaman. The 
Chinese arts have degenerated during the last one hundred years. 
Some of the arts have become lost, such as the making of the beautiful 
red lacquer. I have two boxes of this work made three hundred years 
ago. A hundred years is a mere bagatelle to the average Chinaman. 
The branches of art to-day in China, of course, are the beautiful em- 
broideries, magnificent bronzes, and porcelains. The porcelains made 
at present are not as artistic as those of a generation ago. Chinese 
painting is chiefly allegorical, dealing with mythical gods and god- 
desses and dragons. Everyday life is sometimes drawn and skil- 
fully worked in embroidery. The Chinese seem to understand the 
use and contrast of color extremely well. The Chinese architecture 
has a heavy, clumsy look, which is relieved by beautiful color and 
carving effects. The lintel is used almost entirely. The best build- 
ing in Peking is the Temple of Heaven, which has a beautiful color 
effect. It is circular in plan, with three divisions in height, and capped 
F 



66 

by a beautiful purple tiled roof ending in a large purple porcelain 
knob. The temple building stands on a raised platform, which is 
reached on the four points of the compass by marble stairways, 
which come out on three low circular terraces embellished by 
bronzes. These terraces and stairways are of beautifully carved 
white marble, the former surrounding the temple. It is a striking 
contrast between these exquisitely carved terraces and the splendidly 
colored building above. Gold, royal purple, green, red, and yellow 
contrast and vie with one another in patterns which are rather 
monotonous over the outside. The roof on the inside is supported 
by enormous pillars with no capitals, and in fact are only huge round 
posts covered with stucco and painted with designs of gold on a red 
field. The apex of the roof is gorgeously finished in barbaric splen- 
dor. The whole building must be nearly seventy feet high and 
twenty-five feet in diameter. As you can imagine, it is like a splendid 
jewel in its setting of fir trees which are near by. The roof of purple 
tiles catches the sun, and the effect is like a bright sunbeam playing 
with the little ripples of the sea. The ordinary dwelling house, and 
in fact all houses, are built about a courtyard with a well in or near 
the yard, and low one-story houses surrounding it. A rich man 
simply has more courtyards with finer houses, until one reaches the 
magnificent series of courtyards which cut up the Sacred or Purple 
City of Peking, which, until the last trouble, had never, except in 
exceptional cases, been contaminated by the presence of foreigners. 
China has been taught a lesson which may last for fifty years or so, 
and then her phlegmatic nature will arouse itself and show the con- 
servative and inborn disgust for all foreigners. Peking is full of 
walls, and is surrounded by a wall thirty-six miles long, thirty feet 
high, and forty feet thick. There is a cross walk separating the 
Chinese city from the Tartar city, and inside this former place is the 
imperial enclosure whose rippling roofs of yellow tile dominate that 
portion of Peking. There are three-storied pagodas or forts over 
every gateway. I will tell you more about things, "When Johnnie 
comes marching home again." 

It was a sad blow to all of us when Chauncey died. He was a 
pleasant companion and a brave, noble fellow. I wish I had half the 
brains and memory he had. Father was so interested in his career, 
and I loved him as brothers should love. His example and struggle 
will ever be green in my mind. 



67 

Liscum Barracks, Tientsin, China, March 20, 1901. 

My dear Father : You can see by the heading of this letter that 
I have changed station since I last wrote to you. I was ordered back 
to command my own company about a week ago, so here I am, per- 
fectly contented and ambitious to have one of the best companies in 
the regiment. I have learned a good deal since I have been in 
China, and I have done nothing to be ashamed of. My old company 
has changed a good deal since I left it last August. It gives me 
great pleasure to think that the men appreciate my good treatment 
of them. I have always tried to give them their due. I am the only 
officer for duty with the company. The company is pretty well 
scattered now, with fifty men on detached service at Tongkin at the 
mouth of the Pei Ho River. There are men absent, sick, or on other 
detached service, so that I have my first sergeant, quartermaster 
sergeant and thirty-eight men present for drill and other duties. 
Company G, commanded by Captain Bookmiller, is here with my 
company. We all live together in a large building owned by a trad- 
ing company. These are the most comfortable quarters I have seen 
since we left the States. 

I have just come in from a bracing walk, leaving camp after 
inspecting my company's breakfast and taking a sup of coffee. I 
went around through the German encampment, which is nearly a 
mile from here. We were camped here last July when we landed 
here, and I could see the little piece of ground where we buried 
nearly twenty-five men. Many thoughts of that terrible day came 
surging through my mind. They are pleasant things or noble things 
to think about in comfortable quarters, but it was hell turned loose 
at the time. 

This is a pretty good place here in the foreign concession dis- 
trict, with its shops and fine houses, with many broad macadamized 
roads. 

The English have a good force of Indian troops here. Then 
there are French, who are causing a good deal of trouble by 
picking fights with other nationalities. They are a poor lot, those 
French, and the worst soldiers I have seen in China. There is a 
small force of Russians, Italians, and Austrians here. Of course the 
Germans have more troops than any other nationality in this part of 
China. There is a fine body of German troops here, whose encamp- 



68 

ment I visited this morning. We meet most of these nationalities at 
the English Club, which is only ninety yards from these quarters. 
This is a well-appointed club. There is a German Club on this same 
Victoria Road and that seems to be a good place. I never was 
much of a linguist, and so I do not talk any more than is possible 
with French or Germans. English is spoken nearly everywhere, and 
there are always men in the company who can talk Polish, French, 
Spanish, Italian, or German. This shows the great mixture of races 
in the States. 

The international committee, made up of representatives from 
each power, is having the wall about the native city torn down. This 
will teach Mr. Chinaman a good healthy lesson. One Chinaman pro- 
tested against this strict action, saying that, " A Chinese town without 
any wall about it, was like a woman without any breeches." 

I have just had breakfast, and am now going to guard-mounting, 
as I am officer of the day. There are few posts here, and the duty 
is light. 

P.S. These pictures are scenes about Tientsin. The most inter- 
esting one is the group of different nationalities, showing Japanese, 
Germans, Americans, Russians, English, English native troops, 
French, and Chinese. 

March 24, 1901. 

My dear Father: The last mail came in two or three days 
ago, and brought me a big batch of letters from abroad, which you so 
kindly forwarded me. I am always anxious to get any mail, as I 
know there will be one or two letters from you. I can see by read- 
ing the letters from mother and Christine and the boys that they are 
having a good time, thanks to your generosity. Christine is improv- 
ing in her handwriting, and I doubt not is learning French and music 
rapidly. I shall hardly know Christine and the boys when I come 
home again. / am afraid that it will be many a day before "Johnnie 
conies marching home again.'' As long as there is trotcble in the Phil- 
ippines, that place is going to be the graveyard and bugaboo of our army. 
Still, everything has its end, and foreign service cannot go on forever. 
There is not much excitement here, although it is the best station I 
have had since we left the States. Most of my company is at Tongku 
at the mouth of the Peiho River, where we landed last July for one 



6 9 

night. Some of our surplus supplies are being sent back to the 
States, and there is a quartermaster at that place. We expect to 
receive orders at any time, the latter part of April or the first of May, 
to go back to the Philippines. One company will stay behind at 
Peking as legation guard until some marines can come up and re- 
lieve it. General Chaffee is going to Manila with us and he will take 
command of the islands, relieving General McArthur. We are in hopes 
that he may have us stationed in Manila with him as provost guard. 

This is a beautiful day, for there is not a cloud in the sky and 
just enough twinge to the air to make one feel fine. I just came in 
from a two-mile walk through one of the Chinese shopping districts 
and about the German encampment. There are a few good walks 
in and about the foreign concession district. Our quarters face 
out on the " Bund " or road along the river bank. The sides of the 
Peiho (Yellow river, and it certainly is dirty enough) are lined with 
junks. These junks are usually about thirty feet long, eight feet 
wide and six feet deep ; they are flat-bottomed, and draw about one 
and a half feet of water. The tide forces itself way up the river, 
and these boats go back and forth with the tide. There are some 
big trading companies here, as well as lighter companies, and these all 
have a good many large steel lighters which draw little water and 
carry plenty of freight. 

One meets all nationalities in these walks. Japanese soldiers 
and sailors are talking or laughing with American soldiers, British 
marines, Australian naval reserves, and then Frenchmen, Chinese 
policemen, Russians, English native troops, Germans, Italians, and 
the ubiquitous Chinaman. They aH make a confusion of uniforms, 
speech, and manners, which would put the gang who worked on the 
Tower of Babel in the shade. A detachment of the Royal Welsh 
Fusileers came yesterday. They were here in all the troubles in 
China. This regiment has had a good old record, as the original regi- 
ment was at the Battle of Bunker Hill and roughly handled. 

The socks and handkerchiefs came yesterday, and I threw away a 
dozen pairs of socks and several handerchiefs, as the rats took a fancy 
to these dry goods. I gave fifty pairs to the men in the company, 
six pairs to officers here, and kept seven pairs myself. I am going to 
keep the handkerchiefs myself, as they are first-class. Many thanks 
for your thoughtfulness. 



7o 

I am sending you back the letter mother wrote about Chauncey to 
you. It is a sweet, motherly letter, and such as could only be ex- 
pected from such a fine woman. You can probably guess who the 
dear object of my affections is. I am not worthy of her, but I will 
try hard to get her if no other fellow gets ahead of me. 

I am sending you a portfolio full of scenes, most of which I have 
seen myself. The pictures are extremely good and are well done. 

March 26, 1901. 

My dear Mother : Father has been sending me all your let- 
ters to him as well as the boys' notes and Christine's. Your letters 
are always interesting, and I have often wished that I could be with 
you and see some of the Continent. I have seen some of the world 
since leaving home nearly two years ago, but it has been on duty 
which has often been disagreeable. I shall probably get a chance to 
travel for pleasure in the years to come. 

Your last letter to father in regard to the passing away of dear old 
Chauncey was so sweet and motherly. One in your position cannot 
have the same blood and bone affection for another woman's child ; 
but you have always been a true mother to all of us. I myself can 
imagine what a trial we have been at times. You have always been 
patient, loving, and have smoothed over many rough ways in your 
endeavors to make true gentlemen of us. I loved Chauncey and ad- 
mired him very much. My services to Chauncey were always the 
services of love, for what more could I do when I had the living 
example of father working so hard to try to give us both an education 
and a place among men in the world ? 

What you say of the quiet, restful life at Quincy is true, for I 
hardly think there could have been a happier family than the Bumpae 
when together. A break in the family circle cannot be helped, but 
it leaves its presence and thoughts of the brave and trusting soul who 
has gone before. 

I am sending you a kimona from Peking, and a mattress cover, 
which last and the pieces of jade I want saved for me. I will try to 
get some more embroideries before leaving China. We are expecting 
to get our marching orders to go back to the Philippines for more 
dirty duty in that country. 

This is splendid weather, except when the dust blows. 



7i 

March 30, 1901. 

My dear Christine : This is such a bright, sunny Sunday morn- 
ing that I could not help writing to you and letting you know that I 
have received letters from you recently. The last letter came from 
Vevey, Suisse, and it shows that you are improving in your hand- 
writing and becoming, no doubt, a flourishing musician. You and 
the boys have the opportunity of a lifetime to learn French and see 
some of the world outside of New England. I hope we can meet 
together some day and swap stories of the different parts of the 
world which we have seen. You must learn French well, as you 
will regret it all your life if you do not master some language besides 
your own. Then you are the only musician in the family now. 
Chauncey was a brave, bright, and noble fellow, who was never 
blessed with particularly good health. He left a splendid example 
behind for us to follow. The old home at Quincy will seem strange 
without that sweet, confiding, cheerful person. We must do our best 
to shine as becomes father's remaining jewels. 

This is muster day with our men here, and the men fall in, and 
Lieutenant-colonel Foote is present when the roll is called and the 
list of absentees noted. We have pleasant, comfortable quarters in 
a large building belonging to some Chinese trading company. One 
feels the spring fever at this time of the year. The surplus supplies 
are being shipped back to the States, and I suppose we will be pack- 
ing our trunks and going back to the Philippines in a month or so. 
This building is very near the Peiho River, and I can look out of my 
window now and see a bit of dim-colored fields on the other side of 
the river. There are junks passing to and fro all day long. 

Yesterday I was out walking near the river bank, and noticed 

some little junks about twenty feet long, with a large and flourishing 

family on each one of them. 

April 1, 1901. 

My dear Father : Yesterday was such a bright, sunny day, and 
the night was so clear that I expected we were going to have a spell 
of good weather. There is another dirty, choky dust storm snarling 
outside this morning. 

I went calling at three places yesterday. The doctor here, a hale 
and hearty man from Ole Virginia, concocted an Australian drink 
known as Ichie-bui. This is a soothing: drink which I will take 



7 2 

pleasure in introducing into society when I meet you again. To 
make a long story short, an English officer from the Hongkong 
native regiment took lunch with us, and indulged in this soothing 
nectar. We all decided to call on some Japanese officers, so we went 
down and met a Lieutenant Okahara, whom we knew before and who 
speaks pretty good English. His first lieutenant and captain were 
there, besides some other second lieutenant. We hobnobbed over cig- 
arettes and beer for a time, and then went across the street and called 
on the mess of the First Madras Pioneers, who were very hospitable 
with the usual English whiskeys and sodas. Then we took our rick- 
shaws and called at our English friends' mess. Here we could have 
had more whiskeys and sodas, but we drew the line and compromised 
by taking some excellent tea and rolls. 

The rickshaws were put into service again, and soon brought us to 
the small park near the large building owned by England and named 
after General Gordon. There was a band concert going on, given by 
the Japanese band. The park was alive with English, German, French, 
Russian, Japanese, Italian, and American officers, and enlisted men of 
all nationalities and many branches of the service. There were no 
two uniforms alike, although the French and Italian uniforms are 
somewhat similar. All these different-colored uniforms made up a 
vivid and interesting picture, with the large hall as a background and 
some white, flowering shrubbery all over the park. General Camp- 
bell, commanding English troops here in Tientsin, and maybe 
another general or so of some other nationality, were present. 

We talked with some of our English friends, and listened to the 
music for a while. The Japanese music is slow in movement and 
rather sweet. I was astonished to hear them give some rag-time 
music. Some of us had to go to retreat at 5.30, so we left the glit- 
tering assemblage and went into the public street once more. The 
rickshaw men must look on us as easy meat, for they jump and 
almost fight at an opportunity to get an American as a rider. Our 
officers and men are much better paid than those of most of the for- 
eign powers. I understand that a first sergeant of our infantry, whose 
pay is about $25 a month, gets more pay than the lower ranking 
German officers. A good many of our men have gone to the bad here 
in China, for we had a tough crowd of recruits from the Bowery and 
like places. Most of these men have been weeded out, but some 



73 

cusses still remain. Our term of service is not long enough as a rule, 
especially for foreign service, as it takes a month or more for a man 
to get out to his regiment. This is only a minor reason. We ought 
to have a medal for every important campaign or expedition taken 
part in. There are plenty of old bronzes captured as trophies which 
could be made into simple, inexpensive medals. 

I have just gotten back from breakfast, and will now proceed to 
finish my little chat with you. The officers' club is just about one 
hundred yards from our quarters, and we go over there nearly every 
day to play pool, read, or have a friendly chat or a drink. This is 
part of a healthy man's education, for he sees certain phases of char- 
acter which can be seen nowhere else. 

Nearly everything in the way of clothing, such as that supply 
from England and these socks and handkerchiefs, and all the papers, 
books, and magazines, have reached me safely. I am reading that 
book on "War and Policy" now, and find that it has plenty of meat 
in it. 

I sent you a Chinese mandarin's coat, and I also sent you one to 
save for me. 

We are expecting any week to get orders to pack up and go back 
to the Philippines before long. I for one do not care much, and I 
guess it would not make much difference whether I did or not if the 
little word Duty had to be carried out. A man can be contented 
most anywhere as long as he keeps his health. My health has been 
ting-how (number one), as a Chinaman would say. 

On Board U.S.A.T. Sumner, May 29, 1901. 

My dear Father : Here I am on my way back to the Philip- 
pines once more. All the troops are out of China now, with the 
exception of the legation guard of 140 men under command of Major 
Robertson at Peking. The transport left Taku late in the afternoon 
of May 27. There are 350 men and the colonel and four or five offi- 
cers of the Sixth Cavalry on board, besides Companies K and C of 
the Ninth Infantry. Hartshorn, first lieutenant, commands the first, 
and I am with the second. We have 195 men in our two com- 
panies, General Chaffee, two aides, three signal corps officers, one 
engineer officer, and two doctors, besides three army officers' wives. 
Colonel Humphrey, who is to take charge of the quartermaster 



74 

department, is on board with about sixteen of his clerks. This is the 
final break-up of the China Relief Expedition. 

This transport is considered the gem of the service, as she was 
fitted up at a large cost, so much so as to be the cause of an official 
investigation by a committee of Congress. It is more of an officers' 
boat, and splendidly appointed in every comfort. I have been very 
fortunate in travelling on our best transports, as I came over here on 
the Logan, and went to the Philippines on the Hancock. I am writ- 
ing in the dining saloon, and it is worthy of the title of a saloon. I 
am bunking with Hartshorn in a stateroom on the upper deck. There 
is a deck near the bridge where one can get a good walk and enjoy 
the weather, which has been pleasant and sunshiny ever since we 
started. 

The ship went by the bluffs and Port Arthur yesterday, and 
to-day we went near a small, rocky island with a fishing village on it. 
There are hazy forms of other islands off in the distance. We are 
going to stop at Nagasaki for a short time, and will get there to- 
morrow afternoon. From there it will be nearly a week's run to 
Manila. 

We do not expect any harder work, for in fact it could not be 
much more disagreeable than the work we have had for thirteen 
months or more. I trust we can get some quiet station in or near 
Manila. The Ninth has seen more hard service than any regiment, 
either regular or volunteer, in the service of old " Uncle Sam." They 
were in Cuba where it made a name for itself, did good work in the 
Philippines under the lamented Colonel Liscum, and has made a 
name for itself in China. 

Manila Bay, on Board U.S.A.T. Sumner, June 5, 1901. 

My dear Father : We got into the bay at eight o'clock this 
morning, and have been at anchor since eleven o'clock. The voyage 
on this boat was the pleasantest I have ever taken, as we had good 
weather all the time. The headquarters and nine companies are 
ashore camping on the Luneta, and " C " (mine) and " K " are to go 
ashore soon. I have 95 men with me, and when I get ashore my 
company will have 103 men. There is not a sick man in the com- 
pany, and I never felt better in my life than I feel now. I am writ- 
ing this hurriedly, so that it can go on the Packling, which boat sails 



75 

to-morrow or this afternoon with five light batteries on board. Some 
more regular regiments are going home soon. I expect we may be 
sent back in a year or so. There is some rumor of our being sent to 
the southern islands, possibly Samar or Mindoro. I have got so now 
that I have become sort of callous, and as long as one can keep his 
health, why, duty comes easily. All my troubles are over, and I look 
back on China with no feeling of regret, but as an opportunity of a 
lifetime to study and compare the different nations. We left Manila 
June 27, 1900, and return June 5, 1901, so that we have been away 
nearly a year. No more. With love to all you dear ones, and a 
world of good wishes to one whom I hope to have the pleasure of 
speaking to when I return so full of life and young manhood, and 
hoping you and the family are well. 

Manila, P. I., Sunday, July 7, 1901. 

My dear Father : The days go by quickly here in old Manila, 
for there is more to do in the city than one would find in the country. 
As you know, when I was on this island before going to China I found 
plenty to do, and had marching and disagreeable work with rests in 
the different towns. I had never been regularly stationed in Manila 
before. We used to get a few days leave and visit Manila for the 
sake of a change, and to spend any of the change that we did not 
know what to do with. One of the best friends I have (and one can 
count them on his fingers) has not been to Manila for six months. 
Manila is a poor place to save money, for one has got to dress better 
here and act and appear like an officer and a gentleman. Then, as 
you know, if a man belongs to a first-class club, as I have for over two 
years, that is the Army and Navy Club here, he has got to be a good 
fellow. 

I see by your last letter that everything has got there safely. 
Please do not let the dragon coats or any other souvenirs go out of 
your charge, as they are the only ones I have. You can have one 
coat yourself, but please save the other one for me. I am glad you 
gave Arthur's wife something. (I suppose he is having his honey- 
moon now.) I sent two boxes to Uncle Morris, and he said he had 
forwarded them to you. I suppose you have them now. I would 
not take a good deal for the big Chinese imperial flag. 

We had to turn out as guard of honor to General McArthur when 



7 6 

he left for the States on the 4th, and it was a tiresome affair. That 
was a long day, and I was glad when the civil authorities had taken 
charge. General Chaffee has the military and Judge Taft the civil 
side. The civil government is still under the orders of the War 
Department. There is not much trouble in the islands now. I 
am living in a good comfortable house with Dr. and Mrs. Nichols, 
Lieutenant Schoeffel and Mrs. Schoeffel of our regiment, and Cap- 
tain Connell. Captain Connell has got command of my company now. 
He has only been a captain a few months and is a good fellow. We 
have a nice mess together, and in fact one can manage to live pretty 
well. 

The old house must be looking fine these days, and I look forward 
with an overflowing heart to the day when I shall see you all, and 
wander about the familiar scenes again. The departure of the regi- 
ment from China was delayed for a few days as the result of a few 
cases of small-pox. We are all wondering whether we will go home 
in the next six months or a year. It would be very nice of you to 
get me a leave, although I am in splendid health and it looks bad to 
go home on leave before the regiment goes home. I am reading the 
" Rise of the Dutch Republic " now, and find it an exceedingly mas- 
terful and interesting book. General Bates very kindly writes me 
a letter occasionally, and I tell him of my experiences. 

July 13, 1901. 

My dear Father : Just a year ago to-day I was in that terrible 
fire of shell and bullet at Tientsin. The memory of those stirring 
scenes will never be forgotten. I can remember well what I thought 
of as the fighting spirit of Huguenot ancestors and psalm-singing 
Pilgrims welled through my veins. My mind at that time was filled 
with little thought of myself, for I thought of the loved ones at home 
and it made a man of me. I am glad I did my duty on that day, for 
what can please a man more than to conscientiously feel that he had 
done his duty. The best feeling I had was to think that it would 
please you. My little troubles, with which I have grappled and 
thrust into the past, gave me more pain because I knew how you 
would feel. 

There is to be a big dinner of the Dragon Society to-night in 
Manila. This society was originated in China by us, and it is now an 



77 

international affair. There are seven hundred membei'£./ rom Eng- 
land, Germany, Japan, Russia, France, Italy, the legation!?, our 
army, navy, and marines, so you see that it is to be the most inter- 
national and famous society in the world. General Chaffee is the 
president of it. I am afraid that I will be unable to attend the din- 
ner on account of being on guard. In fact, I am writing this in my 
tent at a camp on the Luneta in Manila. There are no troops camp- 
ing here now, but I have a detail of men guarding government prop- 
erty. I come off guard to-morrow morning. 

I have met an old friend of yours, Major Anderson (late colonel 
38th Vol.), Sixth Cavalry. He said he met you in Yellowstone Park 
on your trip to Alaska. He wished most heartily to be remembered 
to you. Everywhere I go I meet people who know you or have 
heard of you, and they take an additional interest in me because I am 
"a chip of the old block." In fact, I am always proud of having 
such a man as you for a pater familias. I believe that Mrs. General 
Bates and her two daughters will soon be here on a trip. I shall go 
around and call and claim my distant kinship. 

My old captain of Battery A, First Massachusetts Artillery, John 
Bordman, Jr., is in town for a few days, having been mustered out 
a few weeks ago. He intends to go back to Boston before long. He 
had a company in the Twenty-sixth Volunteers and was an able and 
efficient officer, being recommended for a medal of honor and brevet 
major for his good work. I called on him last night and had a long 
talk with him. He promised to call on you and he can give you the 
latest bulletin of my health, etc. As you know, he is a graduate of 
Harvard, a Mott Haven man, and also a member of the Massachu- 
setts Bar. Please give the two swords I spoke about to him unless 
you have already sent them to the room of my old battery at the 
armory. 

I miss Chauncey's typewritten letters, for the old fellow used to 
send them as regular as clockwork once a week. Yes ! you sacrificed 
a good deal and gave him a splendid start in life, and you have noth- 
ing to look back on with regret. I don't wish to touch on a painful 

subject, but his picture hangs on the wall near Miss B 's, and they 

are both constantly in my thoughts. I have been keeping up a des- 
ultory correspondence with Miss B , for I intend to win her. 

My tent looks out on a quiet street, that is, there are carriages 



78 

going back,?,f; a " forth nearly all day. There is a public place where 
people draw water, and to this place the coolies and Filipinos are 
coming occasionally. The day is not oppressive, because there are 
big shade trees in front of my tent, and cool breezes from the bay 
beyond are constantly blowing about the tent. 

Life is pleasanter in Manila than any other place I have been 
stationed in on the island. Of course there is more to see and to 
hear. One can keep clean and wear decent clothes. The secret, 
after all, anywhere, is temperance in all things and keep one's health. 

Manila, P.I., July 14, 1901. 

My dear Father : This is to thank you for those six books 
of Louis Bache which came yesterday. I have been reading one 
this afternoon, and it is interesting and instructive. Books are the 
best gift to a soldier, for there are many times, such as being on 
guard, when they help to while the time away. I always lend them 
to others, so that a number of people get the benefit of them. 

I was disappointed in not going to the Dragon dinner last night, 
but it probably was just as well, for as you know the Dragon is a 
thirsty beast. 

A large swarm of locusts flew over Manila this noon. I had 
read of these things in the Bible, but had never seen such a thing 
before. The natives here eat them and consider them a delicacy. 
All the ducks, chickens, and birds had a feast. 

We expect to relieve the Fourteenth Infantry in their guard duty 
when they leave for the States the latter part of the month. General 
Chaffee may take it into his head to send us into the field again. 

Manila, P. I., July 25, 1901. 

My dear Father : I am writing this in the quarters of Agui- 
naldo, where I am acting as officer of the day. Captain Palmer has 
general charge of Aggie, and another officer and myself are taking 
turns staying in Aguinaldo's house while the captain is out. This is 
a big house on the Malacannan, the swell residence street of Manila. 
Some officer has to be here all the time. There is a guard of two 
men about the house, who prevent any illicit correspondence from 
going out or coming in. Aguinaldo has his secretary here and his 
family, so that he has a monotonous but a comfortable confinement. 



79 

He is allowed to see any visitors he wishes to at certain hours of the 
day. Captain Palmer looks over all his letters, and Aguinaldo is 
allowed to have any newspapers or letters which have been inspected. 
He has been here for several months and I believe has not been 
off the top floor of this house since he came here. He can go out 
walking in the big yard if he wishes to, but has to be accompanied 
by an officer if he goes out into the street. It is said that some of 
Luna's friends (a Filipino general who had almost as much influence 
as Aggie, and who was killed by Aggie for political reasons) will 
assassinate him if they get a chance. I have met Aggie and talked 
with him for a short time. He is not a remarkably brilliant-looking 
man, but has a certain amount of magnetism, and he certainly has 
had an interesting life so far. He can't be more than thirty-five and 
is about five feet, four inches tall. I am acting as the recorder or 
secretary for an examining board to examine ex-volunteer officers and 
soldiers for commissions. My time does not hang heavy on my hands. 
We expect to get orders any day now to go to the island of Samar 
and join the Second Battalion, which has been there since June 10 
with Lieutenant-colonel Foote. Still, one hears all sorts of " Pipe 
Dreams " in Manila and we may not go at all. / zmderstatid that 
Samar has a good climate, but it is a very diffictdt country to fight in. 
Guerilla warfare has been going on there for some time under charge 
of a certain General Lucban, who is said to be a capable man. I do 
not care -much for that kind of warfare, for there is little glory and 
much hard work connected with it. Never mind ! this is the only 
privilege we soldiers have, and that is to growl and do our duty. 

I will be glad to get out of Manila, because I do not feel so well 
here as I did before when living in the country. Then one has got 
to spend money here, and it is almost impossible to spend money in 
the country, unless one is an unsuccessful poker player. The men 
like it better in the country, as there they have a little more variety 
and can be lazier when quartered in a country town. You spoke in 
your last letter about my going to the Leavenworth School. That 
would be the best thing I could do, as it was once a good school, and 
if it starts again, it would give me two years in which I could study 
those things which I have found need of studying in my practical 
experience. A good deal of my service has been of such a nature 
that I did not have the inclination, or could not have the books, to 



8o 

study. Then it gives a man prestige to have graduated from a first- 
class school like that. A great many West Pointers have graduated 
or attended the Leavenworth School. I realize what prestige it gives 
me to have been at Harvard, for I meet Harvard men everywhere and 
find my thoughts going back to the dear, old, happy-go-lucky days of 
college life when old Shaggie and I were having the pleasant times 
of our lives. Get me a place at the school when it starts ; but do not 
try to get it until I am ordered home, for it would look bad for me to 
leave the regiment while practically in the field. 

Edward. 

Manila, P. I., August 3, 1901. 

My dear Father : Just a little note to let you know that every- 
thing seems to be going along all right. The rainy season has started 
in and there is a shower nearly every day. We have been expecting 
orders to go to Samar, and as soon as transportation gets here, we 
will probably go. Four companies under command of Lieutenant- 
colonel Foote have been stationed in the island of Samar for nearly 
a month now. It is said to be a hard country to campaign in, as there 
are no roads except in the vicinity of the seacoast. It is a mountain- 
ous country with a good many small rivers breaking the coast line. I 
may not go down there at all, because the company I am attached to 
at present is guarding Aguinaldo, and may do so for some time to 
come. If we go into the field, I will no doubt be attached to my own 
company again. One feels more at home in his own company. I 
have served with A, C, D, G, H, and I companies since I joined 
the regiment. I imagine that we will be ordered home either next 
spring or as soon as our further services are not needed in the 
islands. By that time we will have ceased to be heroes and the 
girls will have forgotten us. I trust my fellow-citizens of Quincy will 
have a gold watch or a house and lot or a granite quarry for me when 
I return. A good sensible gold watch would be more apropos, as I 
had my silver watch ruined by water at the battle of Tientsin. You 
might prepare the skeleton of a speech to be delivered by me to a 
Sunday-school or in the great City Hall. Yes, I am kicking myself 
because I did not get any furs in China, although the Chinese always 
mix such poor stuff with the good that I could not tell the difference. 
With love to mamma, Christine, and the children, with a bone for 
Puck. 



8i 

Balangiga, Samar, P. I., August 28, 1901. 

My dear Father : You can imagine what an out-of-the-way 
place this is as we have to rely principally on an occasional steamer 
for much of any communication with the outside world. We are on 
the southern coast of Samar, and are stationed here to keep this small 
port closed and allow no trading. We have made several scouts 
lately. I went out four days ago with fifteen men for nearly three 
miles and had some pretty rough ground to go over part of the trip. 
There are a great many cocoanut trees along the lowlands near the 
seacoast, and this town has large numbers near at hand. The meat 
of the cocoanut and its milk are highly prized by the natives, and they 
get a good price for the oil. Then there are sweet potatoes growing 
wild all over the island. There is not as much to be feared from the 
rifles on this island as the bolo, which last is a nasty weapon when at 
close quarters. We keep constantly on the alert with bayonets fixed, 
magazines loaded, and Indian file, so that in case any bolomen try to 
surprise us from the long grass or impenetrable thickets, we will be 
instantly ready for them. It is difficult campaigning in this island, as 
there are no good roads or trails anywhere except along the seacoast. 
The country is hilly and very mountainous. All of the important 
coast towns are occupied, and the troops are endeavoring to close in 
on the few insurrectos who are supposed to be in the mountains. The 
Spaniards hardly ever sent any expeditions into the interior of this 
island, and they only had a few soldiers on it. We cannot do much 
long marching about this country, as we only have seventy odd men. 
The nearest garrisoned post is thirty-five miles overland at Guigan, 
where there is a company of the First Infantry. Lieutenant-colonel 
Foote is at Basey, forty-five miles to the northwest of us, with one 
company of the regiment. The trails are all bad, and even now one 
cannot go far without getting into swampy ground and it will be much 
worse, or practically impossible to do any " biking " during the heavy 
rains here in October and November. I brought a number of books 
with me besides some games, and as I am doing the duties of post 
quartermaster, summary court officer, and commissary, I manage 
to use up the time. There is a Filipino priest living in the convent 
with us, and he comes in to see us every night for a game of chess. 
The padre and I generally break even. There is a surgeon here who 
plays a good game of chess. This game is the most universal of any. 

G 



82 

I am taking this letter to Tacloban, on the island of Leyte, fifty 
miles from here. It will be a long trip of several hours in a row- 
boat, and I intend to take six men with me and bring back some nec- 
essary articles, such as mail, if there is any. While I am there I 
think I will take a trip to Basey and see the people there. There is 
good salt-water bathing here, and some of the days and nights are 
fine. We get the sea breezes, and there are no mosquitoes here. In 
fact, I feel better here than I did in Manila, where it seems to be 
hotter than this place, although we are only 12° from the equator. 
The mails are going to be very uncertain here, as there are only a 
few steamers going among these southern islands. The natives use 
hollowed-out logs, with outriggers of bamboo, for canoes. Some of 
these are of large size for seagoing purposes. 

September 6, 1901. 

My dear Father : I sent you a letter from Tacloban, on the 
island of Leyte, while on a trip there four or five days ago. Six men 
of the company and myself left here at half-past seven one morning 
and rowed along the coast of Samar thirty-five miles to Basey on this 
island. We had the padre 's boat, a large hollowed log changed into 
a fairly good rowboat. The boats here are all made this way, and 
most of them have outriggers of bamboo, which make the boats very 
stiff in the water. The boat we had carried the six men, who rowed, 
and myself, who steered, with rations for two days very easily. We 
landed about twelve o'clock on a pretty little sandy beach lined with 
cocoanut trees, and had lunch. Some natives came to see us from a 
neighboring house, and we made them climb some cocoanut trees, and 
we had all the fresh cocoanut milk we wanted. In fact, we had a 
little picnic, but kept our guns close at hand all the time. 

From there we journeyed on to Basey, reaching there about seven 
o'clock. There are a few fishing villages along this shore. A good 
many coral reefs run out from the shore, and it is hard to make a 
landing in most places with even a small rowboat. I had a pleasant 
night at Basey with Lieutenant-colonel Foote, Hammond, Drouillard, 
and Captain Bookmiller. They are comfortably settled in a large 
convent. Lieutenant-colonel Foote asked very pleasantly after you, 
and wished to be remembered to you and the family. The next morn- 
ing I rowed seven miles to Tacloban, the capital of the island of Leyte. 



83 

There I did some errands, and took luncheon with Colonel De Rus- 
sey of the Eleventh Infantry. This last is a city of fifteen thousand 
people, and has some big trading companies and a few stores. 

I rode back to Basey by moonlight, and spent part of another 
night in a festive game of cards. The next morning I left at sun- 
rise, and was well on my way back to this place before the sun came 
out. We took lunch at the same place. On the way we stopped at 
an interesting rock partially hollowed out by the sea, and full of sea 
birds. We reached camp about four o'clock, and sailed part of the 
way back. I have not received any mail for nearly two months, and 
we cannot get it here with any regularity, as we are out of the line of 
steamers. Still we are expecting a mail at any time. 

We have scouted over all the country within a radius of several 
miles of this post, and have not been troubled by any ladrones (rob- 
bers) with bob or gun. As we never go without arms, and hardly 
ever alone, no native is liable to bother an American soldier if he 
values his health. The heaviest rains on this island are in October 
and November, and as there are swamps all about the town, we will 
have to go about in boats. There is a small river close by the town, 
and the captain and the doctor went up it for a short distance with a 
detachment without finding anything. One of the men in the com- 
pany shot himself the other day and died, and one man deserted while 
crazed with tuba, the native drink, and has probably died in the woods. 
Tuba comes from the juice of the blossom of the cocoanut tree, and 
when fresh tastes like cider, and is hell on fire when fermented. 

There is a padre from the town below this, twenty-five miles away, 
here this evening, and he is going to take our mail to Tacloban to-night. 
We are all feeling well, and if my health keeps this way, I will have 
no kick to make. I trust that Arthur and Cora are happy. 

My love and best wishes to the family, 

Yours aff., 

Edward. 

Balangiga, Samar, P.I., Sunday, September 21, 1901. 

My dear Mother : You must be back gazing out of the studio 
window across the fields and marshes to Boston Harbor. I often 
shut my eyes and see the old scenes pictured on the mirror of my 
mind. You must not think for a minute that homesickness is getting 



8 4 

the better of me, but the delightful memories of the pleasant home in 
Quincy and the old college often float before my mind. Although 
every day has the same monotony in this place, still my early New 
England training seems to tell me that this (Sunday) is a sacred day. 
Then the natives in the little church near our quarters have more 
singing and praying than on any other day of the week. It is a good 
day to write letters, and I have a streak of letter-writing to-day. I 
expect to have a treat when I get my mail next time. 

I will just describe one day's happenings to show you what life 
is in a small town on this island. September 20, I got up at seven 
o'clock, had a bath (consisting of a large tin can which is hoisted 
above the head, through small holes in the bottom of which the 
water pours in a shower), had breakfast with the doctor at half-past 
seven, then inspection of the men, their arms and quarters, at eight 
o'clock (as it was Saturday). Then the doctor and I walked about 
the town to see if the people were keeping it clean. From half-past 
nine to lunch at twelve I read and loafed about the house. We had 
a siesta after lunch until half-past two. I should say here that Cap- 
tain Connell came back from a trip down the coast with part of the 
company. From half-past two to six o'clock I read and watched the 
men batting ball on the ground in front of the quarters. I took 
retreat at six, and then had dinner. I read and talked until half- 
past ten. This is much like any day. We are living in a half-built 
convent, which has an outlook on the sea. So you can see that we 
lead a monotonous existence here. I am going to Tacloban, island 
of Leyte, in a day or two, and I will mail this there. That is the 
biggest town anywhere round in this part of the world. Lieutenant- 
colonel Foote is stationed at Basey on this island, eight miles across 
from Tacloban. He wished to be remembered to you and father the 
last time I saw him. I trust you are all well, and that Morris and 
Foster are growing into strong men. 

With love to all, I am yours affectionately, 

Edward. 

1 

Balangiga, Samar, P.I., September 21, 1901. 

My dear Christine : How are you these days ? You must be 
at home again, rilled with a knowledge of other nations through 
travelling, hearing music, languages, and finding out that there are 



85 

other people in the world outside that small compass of a New Eng- 
land town. It broadens one's character so much to travel. I forgot 
some of my old prejudices for Chinamen while in China. I wish I 
cduld travel in Europe, and see the sights you have. Who knows ? 
I may some day. It is true that I have seen many things here and 
in China which few have seen. I do not think that most people 
would want to see much of this island. We have been here since 
August 13, and there is no communication by way of a regular tele- 
graph or boat with any part of the island. I suppose there is plenty 
of mail for us somewhere, but we have not received any since the 
early part of July, before leaving Manila. Captain Connell is in 
command of the company now, and I am in charge of the small com- 
missary here. There are no roads here at all, and only poor trails, 
mostly along the coast. The quickest way to go about the coast is 
by means of native canoes. These are hollowed out logs, with out- 
riggers of bambo. The outriggers make the boat pretty safe in a 
sea. We cannot get any fresh meat or fresh vegetables or bread, 
so that we have to rely on canned goods entirely. When I come 
marching home, I do not want to see any canned goods. Still, I am 
in fine health and so I do not mind it much. 

We have had two small earthquakes, and I hope they will all be 
small, as I do not want to have the roof fall in, or cracks open in the 
earth. Then it thunders here as if the heavens would crack apart. 
We haven't many plagues, as there are few flies and hardly any mos- 
quitoes. There has been an ambitious snake here lately, who has 
taken a fondness for our chickens. He has not been here the last 
few days. The town is all surrounded by cocoanuts on the land 
side. They serve the natives for food and drink, and the milk of a 
young, green cocoanut is certainly delicious. Give my regards to our 
new sister. I suppose all the Quincy girls will be married by the time 
I get back. We'll have to see about that when I get back. Remem- 
ber me to all the cousins and aunts, Miss Freeman, and Theodora Hay- 
ward. Kiss papa and mamma for me, Nero, Puck, and any other 
pets. Just think how far this has got to go, but you may be sure 
that my best wishes go with it. 

Love to all. Yours affectionately, 

Edward. 



86 

In a letter written by Lieutenant-colonel Foote, he 
states : — 

" I left my post, Basey, two days before the attack on Balangiga. 
Your boy was at Basey when I left. He came up for some supplies 
and to get the mail from Tacloban, across the straits. He returned 
from Tacloban on the 25th, in the evening, stayed with us that night, 
and was there when I left on Thursday morning, the 26th. He said 
he wanted to stay that day to rest up his men and arrange some 
official papers. I told him to stay as long as he wanted, but he said 
he wanted to get back with the supplies and the mail for Captain 
Connell and the men. Lieutenant Hammond joined me at Tacloban 
the next day, and said the boy left for Balangiga early that morning. 
It is a long day's trip by canoe from Basey, so he reached his post 
that evening, and was killed with his brother officers, and most of his 
men, early the next morning. Had he remained at my post twelve 
hours longer he would have been alive now. He felt, however, that 
his duty called him, and he went to join his comrades, and died with 
them. He died as he had lived, a brave soldier and a thorough 
gentleman always. He was bright and cheerful, and had improved 
so much. His instincts were always those of a gentleman, of course. 
He was unselfish and thoughtful of others, and as I knew him, he 
had won his way by his inherent good qualities so that his relations 
with his brother officers were most cordial and pleasant. You and 
Mrs. Bumpus have my most heartfelt sympathy. I feel that what I 
can write or say will be of little consolation, but I knew your boy so 
well, and I liked him so well, that I mourn his loss with you. I hope 
to see you some day again. I don't see how anything could have 
averted the calamity. The conditions were such that a similar thing 
was liable to occur at most any of our small stations in Samar. It is, or 
was, a part of the inevitable result of our occupation of that country. 
The boleros made an attack on a detachment from my post that I 
sent out on the 1st of September to look after our telegraph line. 
They were defeated, leaving eight of their dead on the ground, and 
left our vicinity. I went down to Balangiga on the 7th and warned 
Tommy Connell about them. I did not have command of his station, 
but went there on my own hook. I am satisfied that the affair was 
not due to any negligence. If you could see one of those villages, 



87 

you would understand the situation. The jungle grows thick to the 
edge of the village, and, as I told General Chaffee, it was impossible 
for every man to be on guard every day and night, carrying his rifle 
and wearing his belt always. Possibly poor Connell did not fully 
realize just how treacherous and dangerous those devils are. It sur- 
prised us that they had the courage to rush a whole company in that 
way. It was a warning to the others in some respects. You doubt- 
less saw some account of the way they rushed E company, Captain 
Schoeffel's, on the 16th of October. In writing of it he said : 'After 
the massacre of poor Tommy's company, I ordered my men to keep 
their magazines filled and bayonets fixed at all times, and to that pre- 
caution is due the saving of the camp.' " 

Mr. Stephen Bonsai gives a very complete account of the 
massacre in the New York Herald of December 22. 

In effect he says that for weeks the plot had been ripening under 
the cunning hands of the presidente, and of the chief of police of the 
town. A few days before its happening an earthquake had destroyed 
buildings in the town and injured many of the natives. Surgeon 
Griswold and his assistants had tenderly cared for these people and 
given them the same friendly treatment that the soldiers of Company 
C had during their occupancy of the town of some eight weeks. 
During this time there was much excitement in the town, an unusual 
ringing of the bells ; meetings were held at all hours at the church ; 
many women were seen leaving the place, but the natives about the 
place did not show any special friendship or marked hostility. While 
the officers noted these abnormal conditions, which were in fact the 
precursors of the massacre, yet the explanation of the chief of police 
was naturally accepted ; that they all feared another earthquake and 
a tidal wave, which sometimes accompanies these convulsions at 
Samar. 

"Such, then, were the conditions on the afternoon of September 
28, when a small borroto, or native dugout, was seen coming up the 
bay. It contained Lieutenant Bumpus and four men, who had been 
despatched three days before to Tacloban, Leyte, to secure the com- 
pany mail. 

" It seems incredible, but it is none the less true, that during the 
eight weeks the company had been stationed on the lonely, sinister 



88 

strand of Balangiga, not a single communication or order had been 
received from the outside world. 

" The men, and perhaps the officers, came to the conclusion that 
they had been lost in the military shuffle. To secure their mail and 
possible orders, Lieutenant Bumpus was detailed to make the journey 
forty miles up the strait to Tacloban, and on this fatal eve of the 
slaughter he returned with letters and papers, the first the men had 
received since leaving China, four months before. 

" It had been a very fatiguing pull against wind and current all the 
way, and in the forenoon of the day Lieutenant Bumpus had put into 
Basey, the post next to Balangiga, where Company G of the same 
regiment is stationed, under command of Captain Bookmiller and 
Lieutenant Drouillard. The young lieutenant looked so worn and 
exhausted by his exposure to the sun that these officers pressed him 
to stay at Basey until the following day. 

"After giving his men water, however, he pushed out into the 
stream, pointing to the mail bags as he did so and remarked to Lieu- 
tenant Drouillard, ' I cannot make the poor fellows wait another 
minute,' and so he arrived in time to fall a victim to the ferocity of 
the Samar savages. 

" On the bed in which he slept that night, a sleep that knew no 
awakening, his letters were found, some clutched in his hands, some 
in his pajama pocket, just as he had fallen asleep, repaid for all his 
hardships by the words from home." 

That afternoon the natives had killed a coraboa, as they were 
accustomed to do every two or three weeks to celebrate an important 
event, and many were drunk with kino. They curled up in the grass 
when they had gorged themselves, and soon the village was asleep. 
It was noticed that in the church there was a throng of people until 
late at night, but no notice was taken of it, as it was public, and not 
unusual. Meantime the presidente had communicated with the ninety 
prisoners who were under guard, and hundreds of bolomen, repre- 
senting every kind of ruffian that infests the Pacific, were concealed 
in the church and in the high jungles that came up and surrounded 
the buildings of the village. 

Early next morning, when most of our men were at breakfast in 
a building some thirty feet distant from the barracks where their guns 
were piled, the chief of police, with bolomen, killed and disabled the 



8 9 

several guards and made a rush, hundreds surrounding the men and 
pinning them in, while another great crowd rushed to the officers' 
quarters. 

" A crowd of men were disappearing from view over the covered 
causeway leading from the church into the convento, or priest's house, 
where the officers lived. There were a few muffled cries and after 
them silence. 

" Some of the men, now engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle for 
their lives, never heard another sound from the quarter where they 
had looked for leadership. Others a moment later saw a sight which 
told them that their gallant captain had not given up the attempt to 
join his men while there was life in his body. 

" They heard a smashing of glass, and saw him standing in the 
window of his room trying to beat back his assailants with his bare 
fists, while they rained blows upon him with dagger and krises. 

"They saw him with a Herculean effort tear himself free, and, 
closely followed by his pursuers, spring down the distance of twenty 
feet to the ground. He fell and rose again, fell and rose again. The 
cruel knives of his pitiless pursuers were buried in his back, and his 
fight was at an end. 

"A week later, when I met and talked with the survivors, tears 
were still in the eyes of those who saw the gallant fight the captain 
made to warn and join his men, but they spoke of it as something 
that had happened months before, so innumerable were the incidents 
and sensations which followed in the next crowded tragic half -hour." 

And now, with their officers dead, their guns in the hands of their 
enemies, the men of Company C did not hesitate. Seizing baseball 
bats, shovels, and anything in their way, headed by their first ser- 
geant, they made a dash for the first barracks, where fourteen lost 
their lives in trying to get up the stairway to their guns. Baffled in 
that, five, still led by the sergeant, climbed a bamboo ladder into the 
upper story of the barracks, but unfortunately the ladder broke down 
and left these men helpless in the hands of the savages. They were 
soon cut down and their quivering bodies thrown out of the window 
amidst the fiendish yells of their murderers. 

Nothing daunted, our men rushed to Barracks 2. Most of those 
not cut down reached the place under Sergeant Betron and Corporal 
Burke, and then a most terrific encounter took place. Our men were 



90 

forced, unarmed except by a bolo here and there taken from the 
natives, to push into the crowded room filled with their enemies and 
face almost certain death. Betron and Burke found themselves almost 
alone, when the latter, although wounded, sprang upon the chief of 
police, clutched him by the throat, and rolled over on the floor in a 
death grapple. Burke felt himself losing strength when his hand 
accidentally came in contact with a revolver belonging to one of the 
hospital men who had been killed, and, putting it against the head of 
the savage, blew his brains out ; then fired the other four cartridges, 
while Betron was wielding a captured bolo. They fought on desper- 
ately until the sound of a rifle was heard, and the natives gave up 
for the time the assault on them. 

Sergeant Markley, while at breakfast, heard the assault, and 
instantly rushed to his quarters, where there were seven or eight 
guns. As he ran he was struck at, and once knocked down, to 
find out as he reached his quarters that the guard had already been 
murdered. He attacked and threw down the three bolomen who 
tried to kill him, and, grasping a rifle, shot two, the other crawling 
away in the grass. From that moment he was master of the situation. 
Little by little the few uninjured men joined him. He took posses- 
sion of the few dugouts lying near the shore and prepared to evacute 
in the face of continuous assault, finally succeeding in getting twenty- 
two men, all but five of whom were wounded, into the boats, and 
put off, after a fight on the shore in which twenty natives were killed. 
Before that, he and his men had surrounded and penned in a lot of 
the natives in one of the barracks, and had shot them and others as 
they fled, and their mortality is reckoned at some two hundred. 

The pitiable little fleet set off for Basey ; was followed for hours 
by the natives in boats, who succeeded in killing two of the wounded; 
two others died from their wounds during the night ; and one very brave 
fellow by the name of Wingo wandered off in a boat, and has never 
been heard from since. All through the night these poor men 
floundered on with no food or water, no help for the wounded, 
and in a climate where suffering is much intensified. Salt water 
came on board and added another horror to the wounded. Finally, 
in the morning, at daybreak, they reached Basey, and safety. 

Mr. Bonsai brings out very graphically the terrible details of this 
affair. One can see the brave bugler, at his post on the plaza, cut 



9i 

down while rallying his fellows, while his young associate escapes 
from the same fate by using his bugle as a fender-off ; and when the 
flag, amid the assaults and yells of the enemy, is pulled down as 
the men leave the place, he tries to blow his call to honor his flag, 
but the bolos have cut it so badly that it cannot be used. Again, there 
stands forth De Graffenreid, on a pile of cobblestones, hurling with 
crushing effect five bolomen to their death as they surround him, 
and, when called away, is reluctant to give up the fight. Then, 
" about midnight, with a handshake and a hearty, ' Boys, you've done 
the best you could,' two of the wounded die." 

The six hundred immortalized by Tennyson, and the Seventh 
Regiment at the Custer massacre, were led to death by their officers ; 
but at Basey these enlisted men, in the midst of most frightful and 
demoralizing conditions, — knowing their officers to be dead, — rose 
superbly to the occasion and showed us once again what the American 
soldier can do. Surely there must be something more for such men 
than mere words, and we must look to the government to do every- 
thing possible that it has the power to do. And yet, when one thinks 
of the hundreds of men that the Ninth Regiment has lost in Cuba, 
China, Manila, and Samar, the thought comes to one's mind that, 
where all were heroes, how can one expect a greater reward than to 
be of this regiment. 

West Point, Harvard, and Yale created the officers who took part 
in this tragedy, but it took the world to create soldiers to fight on 
after their officers were dead. 



at (Smiwcp, 

October 12, 1901. 



"Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth, 

And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully, 
And no rude storm, how fierce soever it flieth, 
Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in Thee. 

"O Rest of Rests I O Peace, serene, eternal! 
Thou ever livest, and Thou changest never; 
Atid in the secret of Thy presence dwelleth 
Fulness of joy forever and forever.' 1 '' 

Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

Sung by Signor Rotolli, to music composed 
by him, at the Memorial Service. 



92 



flfoemorial Service 



THE service at the old Stone Temple at Quincy, Octo- 
ber 12, was a spontaneous outpouring of love and 
devotion by my friends and neighbors to the Ameri- 
can soldier. There could have been no more fitting place to 
have made such an offering in. It is a temple dedicated to 
historical and patriotic associations, made sacred as the tomb 
of two presidents, and in a town where to this day there is the 
same sturdy manhood and sterling characteristics as in the 
old days when Adams, Quincy, Hancock, and the others first 
began their march from this little hamlet towards fame. 

The throng that gathered came to the simple service, 
each bringing some emotion and memory that merged in the 
universal feeling that here, indeed, was an altar and a sacri- 
fice upon it, and, forgetting self, became the mourners. To 
the soldier, who sat silently by and heard the eloquent words 
and the beautiful music, there came such an intense feeling 
that he imagined himself once more in the midst of the noise 
and vigor of war and all that goes with the soldier's life, and 
it is no wonder that his tears flowed as he heard the story of 
these heroes who had lived and died as his own comrades 
had. Could Colonel George Russell, a veteran who had 
served with the Ninth Infantry for twenty years and who was 
present at the service, have afterward gathered his regiment 
around him and told them the story of how citizens of all 
stations in life had stood in tears and with prayers while taps 

93 



94 

sounded through the old church for the men who so pitiably 
died at Samar, the regiment would have taken fresh heart as 
it marched away to take the places of those who had died. 
He might have repeated to them the words uttered by the 
Rev. E. C. Butler : — 

The Ninth United States Regular Infantry is regarded to-day as 
the ideal infantry regiment of the United States Army. Its history 
and traditions in the past, its heroic services at Santiago, its triumphs 
in battles at Manila, its being selected as the first United States 
regiment to go into China, where in a bloody battle at Tientsin it 
lost twenty-five per cent of its men and thirty-seven per cent of its 
officers, the frightful march to Pekin, its heroic fight under the walls, 
and other remarkable and picturesque campaigns in China, its return 
to Manila, and the final fight and destruction of one of its companies, 
— all justify this proud claim. 

The officers that have commanded and been of it, the soldiers 
who have belonged to its ranks, have created this esprit du corps. 
Nowhere in its history can be found any false note or tone. Every 
officer has been taught that he must live and die with his men, and 
when the news came of the disaster at Samar, — that the officers of 
Company C had escaped, — every other officer of the regiment knew 
that it could not be so, and their faith was justified by the action of 
the men whom we lament to-day. 

In the church, at the left and right of the altar enclosure, 
were placed crape-tied standards, the altar rail was hung with 
the national colors caught up in the centre with ribbons of 
black, while from the apex of the canopy fell graceful stream- 
ers of black and white. At either side of the pulpit, tablets 
were festooned with the symbol of mourning, and from the 
choir rail hung other crape-tied flags. The busts of John 
Adams and John Quincy Adams were decorated with Ameri- 
can flags. An immense Chinese flag, which had been cap- 
tured by the Ninth Regiment and sent home by Lieutenant 
Bumpus, knotted with sombre ribbons, was hung directly 
over the main aisle entrance. 



95 

The services, which impressed one by their simplicity 
and earnestness far more than by any elaborateness of de- 
tail, began by the singing of Luther's stirring battle hymn, 
" A mighty fortress is our God," by the quartette choir of 
the church. Rev. George A. Strong read selections from the 
Episcopalian Burial Service and offered prayer. After the 
solo, " No Night Shall Be There," Brooks Adams, Esq., 
of Quincy, said: — 

My Fellow-citizens of Quincy : We meet to-day to commem- 
orate the last great sacrifice which men can make for their country, 
that sacrifice which has been offered up for all of us by the soldiers 
of our Republic who have perished in a distant land. As to me there 
is nothing so magnificent as the soldier's death, so there is nothing 
regarding which I feel so deeply the impotence of words. I pray 
you, therefore, to bear with me in my shortcomings. 

We have heard much of late in this community about the iniquity 
of war. Yet I am not here to dwell upon the language which has 
been used regarding the deeds of our dead, for I come not as a parti- 
san or in bitterness, but as an American citizen to render thanks for 
what I deem a great example. War may be terrible, but it is also 
beneficent, for it has given us the noblest type of manhood which 
I believe the race has ever known. It has given us the American 
soldier. 

When the Rebellion broke out I was a child, and with a child's 
passion, but with a child's sense of helplessness, I shared in the ecstasy 
of victory or in the gloom of defeat. My youth was nourished with tales 
of our heroes in the field, and to this hour the old thrill of grief and awe 
returns to me when I recall Shaw's fate at Wagner, and the enemy's 
taunt that they had buried him in a trench under his niggers ; or 
when I think of Henry Abbott, at twenty-two years old, making his 
will in favor of his men, as his life-blood flowed in the Wilderness. 
As the bough is bent so will the tree grow, and until I go down to 
my grave I shall love and reverence the American soldier. 

And yet, as the years passed and I grew older, it sometimes 
seemed to me as if I should come to stand almost alone, as if men no 
longer loved what they used to love, or held to their old ideals. And 



9 6 

then at last came the destruction of the Maine, and in an instant the 
country was aflame. A million men were ready. Among those who 
have since served and suffered, there have been many with a courage 
as high and a patriotism as pure as was their fathers' when they 
marched in 1861, and if I recount to you the story of but one, it is 
only because I regard him as a type, because he is our fellow-towns- 
man, and because I have followed his career with sympathy and 
pride from its outset, here in Massachusetts, to its ending in Samar. 
Edward Bumpus came of an old New England family. His great- 
grandfather, his grandfather, and his father, had all worn the 
national uniform. Born in 1875, he was twenty -three when the Presi- 
dent called for men at the opening of the Spanish War. He answered 
to the call. Part of that summer he served with the First Massachu- 
setts Heavy Artillery, stationed at Nahant. In July he passed his 
examination for the regular army, he was commissioned as second 
lieutenant in the Twenty-first Infantry, and then sent to the Philip- 
pines. In August, 1899, ne was promoted, assigned to the Ninth 
Infantry, and made with them the campaign in China. In China the 
regiment suffered severely, and was about to return home, when the 
disaster occurred for which we mourn to-day. 

During his absence in the East, Lieutenant Bumpus wrote to his 
family, and his letters show the nature of the man better than could 
be done by any words of mine. I cannot read them all, but I can 
read enough to enable you to judge of him yourselves. Our young 
soldier was an American, therefore the basis of his character was in- 
telligence and common sense. In May, 1900, in reply to his brother, 
who wrote making inquiries about the climate of Manila on behalf of 
a friend who was going thither, he observed, "Those sayings, ' Know 
thyself ' and ' Nothing in excess,' are as true to-day as centuries ago." 
He added, " There are very simple rules to be followed if one comes 
out in perfect health, and this is not so unhealthy or disagreeable to 
live in as some parts of the States. After all, experience is the most 
important, and common sense in following the ordinary rules of health 
all that is necessary." 

He chose for his friends the best men about him, and his amuse- 
ments were exercise, reading, and study. For example, while at 
Bamban in Luzon, he described at length his life and the country 
near by. The letter of which I give a few lines is to his father, dated 



97 

March 3, igoo. Lieutenant Lawton, of whom he speaks, is the adju- 
tant who afterward was brevetted lieutenant-colonel, and received the 
medal for courage, for his conduct at Tientsin. " Lieutenant Lawton 
and I have been taking three-mile walks. He is an agreeable com- 
panion and the time passes quickly when he is present. We climbed 
a steep hill near the Bamban River day before yesterday, and had a 
fine view of the great valley which is watered by the Bamban River. 
We were ordered to make a map of the pueblo, and the country 
within a radius of half a mile. This was a pleasant duty, and it took 
us two days to do the work. Here is a rough map which will show 
the general character of the country." 

In Peking he witnessed the occupation of the Sacred City. " Yes- 
terday morning the troops from the allied forces marched into the 
palace and sacred grounds with colors flying and bands playing. It 
was an impressive sight. The Russians came first with high top- 
boots and baggy white uniforms. They had some handsome flags. 
Next marched the Japs in white uniforms, orange-colored leggings, 
and white hats with yellow bands. The English followed with de- 
tachments of blue-jackets, Sihks, and Royal Welsh Fusileers. We 
came next with about three hundred men from the marines, artillery, 
Fourteenth Infantry and Ninth Infantry. The French colonial troops 
came next in dirty, faded blue uniforms. The Germans followed 
them and marched best of all. At the end were small detachments 
from Austria and Italy." He wrote from Peking: — 

"There is nothing to do here, as the duty is light. I have just 
finished reading Carlyle's ' Past and Present.' I think I will write 
something about Chinese architecture when time hangs heavy on 
my hands. Two days ago I made this enclosed sketch, and I hope 
to make some more. Please keep it for me if it reaches Quincy 
safely." 

Finally, in his last letter from Samar, he spoke thus of his way of 
life : " The captain and myself are living in one end of a big convent 
here. A native priest lives here also. In fact, we are very comfort- 
able, as I have plenty of books and games with me. I have just 
finished playing checkers, chess, and dominoes with the padre or 
priest." 

Evidently an active, temperate man, of studious and refined 
tastes ; but he was also something more. He was a young man, 
H 



9 8 

living on the small pay of an American officer, in foreign cities, sur- 
rounded by all the temptations which beset a garrison in a conquered 
country, and yet his only thought was to help his family at home. 
He wrote to his father from Peking : " In regard to any property 
or money that may be my share, you may give it all to Chauncey 
and Christiana. It has always been my effort and thought to help 
Chauncey. Arthur and I are independent now, thanks to your 
thoughtfulness in providing us well in the way of education and a 
beautiful, happy home life. I love those books in that delightful 
sunny library. In case anything happens to me, as life is always 
uncertain, what funds and little property I have will be a small 
amount in return for all the trouble and expense I have been to 
you. 

" It seems to me that everywhere I go I meet people who remem- 
ber you, and it is with a great feeling of pride that I can say you 
are my father and also that I am not unworthy of you." 

" The enclosed check is for one month's pay." He had already 
remitted certain sums before, and he added : " I wish you would do 
what you want with the money. Let me know if you got the first 
checks." After his son's death, his father found a life insurance policy 
made in his favor. 

We have now seen our young soldier at his amusements, doing 
his duty, caring for his family. It remains to follow him in battle. 
On the morning of July 13, 1900, the allies, under the command of a 
certain English general named Durward, advanced to the storm of 
Tientsin. The Japanese, supported by the British, tried to carry 
the city wall and force the gate. They were met, however, by a 
severe cross-fire, to check which Durward ordered the Americans to 
attack, but through a mistake he sent them into a cul de sac, with the 
river in front, and open fields behind swept for a mile by machine 
guns. Here the battalion lay all day, and here they lost 118 out of 
400 men. It was here too that Lieutenant Lawton was shot while 
trying to obtain reinforcements. Two days later Lieutenant Bum- 
pus wrote an account of the fight, which has already been published, 
to his father. 

" We deployed to the right of the Japs on an open field and 
advanced under what little protection rice dikes and grave mounds 
furnished — this while under deadly shrapnel, shell, and rifle fire. 



99 

My captain was badly wounded about eight o'clock. Finally we got 
strongly placed behind some rice dikes, not more than one hundred 
yards from the Chinese, on the farther side of a small river. 

" The firing was terrific. Our colonel was killed here while hold- 
ing the colors ; Captain Noyes wounded, Major Regan wounded, and 
Lieutenant Lawton wounded. Here we lay under constant machine 
gun and rifle fire, with an occasional shell, until 8.15 in the evening. 

God ! it was hell. We could not go ahead or retreat, and we 
all expected to be killed any moment. I never saw such a lot of 
desperate men as we were. Nothing could live outside in the open. 

1 was sitting in mud and water nearly all the time over my waist. 
My feelings were a sort of devil-may-care sort of feeling. I never 
thought I would be, or feel, so cool in such a hell. We finally 
crawled out of these positions when darkness came on. The devils 
fired at us for a mile across the open." 

Now mark how the view taken by this officer of his own conduct 
in action diverged from that taken of the same conduct by his supe- 
riors, who fought by his side. Lieutenant Bumpus described himself 
as crouching " nearly all the time " in muddy water, expecting instant 
death ; but he was recommended for a brevet " for conspicuous gal- 
lantry, coolness, and heroism, being with the extreme advance, and 
inspiring his men with his example throughout the day." 

Before such lives as these I stand abashed. This man was mod- 
est, intelligent, obedient, unselfish, patriotic, and brave. He proved 
these things by his acts, and he sealed his devotion with his blood. 
I know not if parents may ask more of their sons, or a country of her 
children ; but this I do know well, one attribute is still lacking to fill 
full the military ideal. I ask you men who hear me, what is the 
trait we prize the highest in one another. I apprehend this supreme 
quality to be constancy ; to be that power certain men possess of 
making others know that when they stand on their right hand, they 
will abide unto the end, that they will be true till death. More 
than this can no man do, — to give his life for his duty. We shall 
see whether Lieutenant Bumpus enjoyed this last and noblest gift. 
Perhaps the most touching story of the Civil War is naval. You 
may all know it as well as I, but its beauty will justify its retelling. 
When the Merrimac came down to Hampton Roads to destroy our 
wooden ships, Commodore Smith was on duty in Washington, and 

LoFC. 



IOO 

his son Jo Smith was a lieutenant on the Congress, and the senior 
officer on board. You remember the fight. You know that the 
Merrimac rammed the Cumberland, and that the frigate sank firing 
her last broadside as the water choked the guns. You know that she 
went down with her flag flying, and that it waved from her mast that 
night over the waters of the bay. You know that the Merrimac 
raked the Congress until her decks became a charnel-house, and until 
she surrendered. They brought word to the commodore that the 
Ctimberland had sunk, but that the Congress had struck. "Then," 
said the old man, "Jo is dead." And Jo was dead. When I read 
the news of the massacre in Samar my heart failed me as I thought 
of speaking with my old friend, so I wrote, imploring him to hope, for 
indeed it seemed to me that his son might well have saved himself. 
Afterward we met. " I read your letter," said he, " but I could not 
hope. I knew Ed would never leave his men. He was an American 
soldier." 

You know the rest. No officer survives. 

May God long grant to our Republic such fathers and such sons. 

Rev. E. C. Butler said : — 

Perhaps the most difficult thing in a young man's life is his 
leaving home, his departure from the home nest, his first essay in 
the world. This is true even when it is nothing more than the en- 
trance into the peaceful ways of civil life. He has been watched 
over, cared for, protected ; and when the time comes that he must 
care for himself, and the protecting hand is removed, when the wise 
counsel of those who love him is no longer at hand, we can but sym- 
pathize with the struggle. 

We watch him with our hearts in our eyes lest he fail, and we 
have only approving words when he succeeds. His life is an experi- 
ment, he has no measure of values to fall back on, he is among those 
who value him, not for what he is, not for the fine qualities that may 
be in him, but for what he can do for them. There is oftentimes 
too little consideration for the young lad ; he buys his wisdom at a 
bitter price, his experience is too hardly won, he becomes cynical and 
suspicious, and he who with all this keeps his nobleness and pre- 
serves a sweet good will for all must have qualities that can never 
become too common. 



IOI 

But when the first flight afield is made in a foreign land in heated 
emergencies of war, amid the rivalries of military life, the dangers 
and perils are greatly increased. If he then succeeds, his value is 
correspondingly greater. We say honor to whom honor is due. 

I know the tendency in such a time is to eulogize, but I desire to 
do nothing of the kind. I only want to state the facts without prej- 
udice. When a young man, one of our own boys, goes out from 
among us and does things, when he faces death and disease, when 
he lives the life of a gentleman, without fear, without reproach, and 
when his time comes to die, dies becomingly, it is no slight thing. 

Yet we sometimes fail to understand it. It is difficult for us to 
see how one who has gone out of our homes familiarly, whom we 
have seen walking up and down our own streets in the common 
habitudes of daily life, can set us an example. It has always been 
so. Is not this the carpenter's Son ? was said in the old days. His 
brothers and sisters, are they not among us ? By what power does 
He these things ? We forget that he who does well what he has set 
his hand to, neither hesitating nor looking back, lives to the main 
issue of life, and this is what Edward Bumpus did. 

There were indications that he had found his place, and there- 
fore was it more pity that he should have been cut off so suddenly, 
while his feet were yet treading the threshold of his manly career. 
I say it was a pity ; on second thought I will recall that. Until we 
know more of that future into which he has gone, we must hesitate 
before prevising anything with regard to life here or there. I know 
that life is good, especially in its flush of youth with its fount of 
reserve power at control ; but as I approach nearer the end of this 
life, I feel less like saying what the other can or cannot be. My 
belief is in eternal mercy and justice. We can trust at least so 
much. 

But let me go a step farther. Youth is apt to be a little selfish 
with regard to its own pleasures. There are reasons why this is so. 
The stream of life flows tumultuously on, bearing them with it, and 
there are few who can stop by the way and be eyes to the blind and 
feet to the lame, yet Edward Bumpus was one of these. He had a 
genius for affection. I am here treading closely to sacred things, and 
yet it is here that it must be said. Those who knew him best will 
bear willing and grateful testimony to the tenderness of his care for 



102 

his blind brother, whose affliction he would have borne if he could, 
and with whom he ever went hand in hand. He thought not of him- 
self, he was his brother's second self from childhood. I have been 
told his thoughts were of Chauncey and Chauncey only. He must 
be first whoever came next. Blood is thicker than water, of course, 
but devotion like this is rare, and when it continues from childhood 
to manhood, with neither hindrance nor cessation, it reveals a quality 
of character that makes us think better of our common lives. Well, 
the brothers are both with God. If there is such a thing as personal 
continuance in that life, they are together, they could not stay apart, 
the heavens are not wide enough to separate them. 

One word more concerning another quality he possessed, that 
was fidelity to his friendships. I cannot say wholly what I would 
concerning this, it is too personal a matter with me. He was the 
sincere friend of one who was dearer to me than life itself. Their 
friendship began at the university, and ripened with the lapse of 
time, and when illness and death came to the friend, then it was that 
his fidelity came to the surface. But here I must pause ; but this at 
least I may say, that we are surely doing what is both fine and fitting, 
in speaking these words of remembrance of one who, though young 
in years, yet possessed in so great a degree the leading virtues of a 
manly life, courage to play the man's part, love and sacrifice, which 
we are told is the chief of all, fidelity to his friends, for whom in a 
very simple yet large and lofty way he laid down his life. 

It is a good thing sometimes to know one's duty, and it is a 
better thing to do it, for that is the chief end of man. 

Rev. Edward Anderson, colonel of the Fourteenth 
Indiana Cavalry and ex-chaplain of the G.A.R. of the 
United States, said: — 

We have been hearing the stories of a man whose constancy and 
loyalty and bravery ought to make the eyes of friends and relatives 
shine with pride even if it was through tears that made them sparkle; 
and yet the drapery on these flags brings our deepest and warmest 
sympathy to our neighbors and friends and to the empty home. But is 
there no compensation beside this story of bravery ? Is there noth- 
ing that can come to lighten up the prospect and make it brilliant 
with its brightness ? 



103 

We read in the Scriptures that " The days of our years are 
threescore years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they be four- 
score years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow ; for it is soon cut 
off, and we fly away." How many a one there is who lives out the 
full number of these years whose life goes out with never a record 
behind. If a life has done its work, and has accomplished that which 
is going to be far-reaching in its results, why may it not sooner come 
to its close ? Why should one live up to the dreary end instead of 
realizing, in a flash, the glory of achievement, clothing itself with the 
royal robes of a conqueror, and yet not like a meteor, but leaving a 
glorious light that shines out into the future ? 

I think it is well that we opened the exercises to-day with the 
grand old hymn of Luther, " A mighty fortress is our God." When 
we come to think of deeds that in such a life are linked with the 
mighty God who is our fortress, we find fresh joy springing up. 
Since all results of lives come through our God, who only can accom- 
plish, and since He brings things to pass through our lives, we shall 
be sure that no true life goes out, but that it will be a success. 

If one of the rabble that followed the meek and lowly Jesus to 
His cross, swelling the chorus of " Crucify Him," had been asked 
what was done that day, he would have answered, "We are rid of a 
man who has been turning the world upside down." If one of the 
disciples had been asked what had been done, he would have an- 
swered : " There has been taken away from us One through whom the 
blind received their sight, the sick were healed, the lame were made 
whole, and the poor had the gospel of hope preached to them. 
We have hoped that He would conquer fame, but all is lost, and His 
life is an awful failure — He is dead ! " That was as far as either 
of them could see. We can look down the centuries that have fol- 
lowed and see. He was only thirty-three years old, and now dead, 
and yet His work has blazed forth and made the world what it is to- 
day — in all its advance in science, in inventions, in the uplifting of 
woman and placing her side by side with man and with equal oppor- 
tunities. 

If at the close of the Revolutionary War one of the old veterans 
had been asked what had been the outcome of it, he would have 
answered, " The British have been driven out, and for the thirteen 
colonies we have made a Constitution following up our Declaration 



104 

of Independence, and we have started as a nation for ourselves." 
But how could he know of what in these 126 years has grown from 
the work accomplished by the men in that day ? 

If after the Mexican War one of the soldiers had been asked 
what had been accomplished by General Taylor and General Scott, 
he would have said, "We have new land to add to the American 
Union and have shown our power to the world." How could he 
have dreamed of what has come since, in the binding of ocean to 
ocean with bands of steel and nerves of fire, and making what it is, 
this country, that stands so great before all the world ? 

If at the close of our Civil War you and I had been asked 
what had been accomplished, we would have said, " We have con- 
quered our country back again, and have put that flag where it will float 
undisturbed forever, East and West, North and South, and we have 
wiped out slavery." But how little did we dream that it was not only 
the black slaves but the white men who had been freed in the South ; 
and that because of it would be developed the largest mines and the 
greatest factories in that South. 

What are we to say when asked what has been accomplished in 
the last three or four years by such men as our young lieutenant, 
equally with his father and grandfather and great-grandfather? 
What has been brought about or what will be ? Ah, who can tell ? 
" A mighty fortress is our God." He has been leading our country 
from the time that the Pilgrim Fathers pressed their feet on the 
bleak rocks of our new world, on and up ; and through all the growth 
there has been this constant strengthening and enlarging, increasing 
in power, and sending out more and more influences until they are 
sweeping the world. We are sending our missionaries into foreign 
lands, but they are preaching a gospel as varying almost as the people 
who teach it ; but our God, who is our mighty fortress, is teaching us 
that there is another class of missionaries who are carrying, if with 
the point of the sword and the bayonet and at the mouths of thirteen- 
inch guns, instruction in practical science and art which show a civili- 
zation and enlightenment that the world has never dreamed of before. 

This morning when we waked up we could see no sun. The 
whole sky was covered with dense clouds that seemed to weep in 
sympathy with this sad day ; but we knew perfectly well that those 
clouds belonged to this earth, that they were of our atmosphere and 



io5 

only a little way above us, and that above them a great light flooded 
all space as the sun shone in his unobstructed glory. People have 
stood on the Riga or on Pilatus and have seen the great sea of clouds 
below, and they knew that from those clouds were pouring drenching 
rains in the beautiful Lucerne and its more beautiful lake ; but seen 
from above and withal radiant with sunshine, the view was gorgeous 
in bright silver, sometimes flashing with changes of gold and crimson. 
We knew that the powerful sun would break its way through the 
clouds and make all nature smile under the genial light — as it has 
to-day. So of all these who die in a glorious cause will come some 
day the brightness and the glory. That glory must come and all 
earth will rejoice. We do not mourn for Jesus, nor for martyrs, 
nor any who have accomplished, when we realize their work. 

" Christ has died to make men holy, 
These men died to make men free!" 

So above all these dark and gloomy mists that are mysteries 
resting upon this dear family, which are clouds that belong to the 
earth part, the sun is shining, — the sun of God's glory, — and it is a 
pledge, that out from all this grief and sorrow God will make of the 
warp of the rain and the weft of the sunshine a rich bow of promise 
for brighter days to come from the very gloom of the clouds, — a day 
of salvation born from the death of these glorious men who have given 
their lives for the flag they loved so well. It seems sometimes as if 
the story which comes from Calvary must be always repeated, and 
from the pierced side of every redeemer must pour forth blood and 
water — the blood of the slain and the tears of those who weep for 
them. From this must and will come the redemption that we are 
sure of because we have this great and mighty spirit, even though 
we reach on and on through the centuries, " A mighty fortress is our 
God " and he can take His own time for the accomplishing. He need 
not hasten, but He will not forget his actors in the causes of things, 
though He may be long in producing results, as He has seemed to be 
through these millions of years since this earth began its revolutions 
about the sun. 

Let us then take courage in the thought that it is not always 
gloom, that these flags do not need to be always black, because out 
from the clouds of earth is to come the refulgence of God's glory as 



io6 

He reveals it to the people ; and these deeds are but the reduplication 
of the deeds in days gone by, and out from which has come such a 
glory. So while we give our deep sympathy to those mourning friends, 
we old soldiers want to say to our comrade who mourns his son to- 
day, to his weeping family, and to each other, " The Lord has called 
each of us to a work which we cannot understand, because it is vaster 
than we can dream of ; but if we are loyal to our part and do it faith- 
fully, the results are all in His hands and will come in His own good 
time, and our reward is certain." 

So as we contemplate the life of this young man, and his death, 
and the lives and deaths of so many who were about him when he 
died, and of all those who have given themselves to their country, — 
pledging themselves to death whether it was accepted or not, — let 
us, taking courage not only for ourselves, but for our children and 
our children's children, stand true at our posts of duty, small though 
they may seem to be, at the polls or the primaries, if we are not 
called to more active service, and all for country and our love of it, 
as we realize its glory and grandeur, and what God means to accom- 
plish through it and its loyal people. 

ADDRESS OF CAPTAIN JOHN BORDMAN, JR. 

A pitiable tragedy has been effected, an act of foulest treachery 
consummated, a happy and loving family has been almost annihilated. 

I think one who has never been in the army can hardly appreci- 
ate the family ties of a military organization. Living together on the 
outskirts of civilization, — in our case to-day living thousands of miles 
from home, assigned to a station where only once in a number of 
months is a strange white face seen, — one under these conditions can 
realize the ties and associations, the loves and companionships, that 
grow up between the members of a military company. This was the 
case of Company C of the Ninth Infantry. They were assigned to 
the southern part of Samar ; there they were a little world unto them- 
selves, and there they grew into one another's lives. Every pain was 
pain to every member, and every joy was the joy of all. Such was 
the family which now has passed away. 

As I came through Manila on the way home, Edward came to 
meet me, and took me out and introduced me to Captain Connell of 
his company, a young man of fire and enthusiasm, and one that lost 



107 

his life at the same time that Edward lost his. He reminded me of 
the late Captain Wilhelm, of the Twenty- first Infantry, who had just 
been lost in action in Batangas, and I could not but feel the resem- 
blance between them, with regret that our army was sacrificing its 
best men, and although I made no remark of the resemblance at the 
time, it now again comes home to me. 

Major Griswold was the assistant surgeon of the Twenty-sixth 
Infantry, my own regiment, and was my nearest neighbor at Pototan, 
in Panay ; he was a member of the little family in Samar, — a happy, 
jolly fellow, the life of whatever party he was with ; he must have 
been a valued member and brother in that little organization. 

Edward Avery Bumpus first came to me in 1897 and enlisted in 
Heavy Battery A. In 1898, when danger threatened the country, he 
again came and volunteered for the service of the nation. He was 
with me and with Battery A at Fort Warren, at Nahant, and later at 
Salem. From there he was commissioned in the regular service and 
went to the Twenty-first Infantry. I saw him and bade him God 
speed on the eve of his departure for the Philippines. After my 
arrival there, although we were in different parts of the Archipelago, 
we corresponded regularly and I had an opportunity to look in on his 
life and know more of him. He was a manly man. There is naught 
in his military career or in his personal life that one can speak ill of. 
I found him very steadfast, very faithful, eager and conscientious to 
do his whole duty. And so the men he left behind at Plattsburg, at 
Fort Ethan Allen, and in Manila, all testified to his conscientious 
endeavors to do the whole of his duties. As I was leaving Manila, 
Edward came down to see me off. His last words were, " Go and 
see my family ; go and see my father. He will be glad to see you. 
Tell them I am well and I hope soon to come home." 

Those were the words of a brave and tender man expressed to 
me, almost a stranger to his family, and show that the excitements of 
an especially eventful service had in nowise weakened a love for dear 
ones and a longing for home. Of course I would look up his family 
and see his father and his brothers, — I had met some of them in 
1898 in my camp in the Spanish War. Edward, I fully felt at that 
time, would soon be ordered home. However, the fortune of war 
sent him to Samar, and there we have witnessed the massacre. 

It has hurt me to see the criticisms that have been made through 



io8 

the press and elsewhere to the effect that there was a lack of vigi- 
lance on the part of Company C which exposed them to danger of 
attack. Perhaps it would be wise for me to explain the normal con- 
ditions surrounding a garrison in the Philippines, and show the way 
in which in the present case their vigilance, their measures for secu- 
rity, though properly taken, were unavailing. A company is placed 
in the middle of a town, and it would be impossible from the topo- 
graphical situation and rambling nature of the buildings, with their 
innumerable paths, for one company to provide sentinels or pickets 
to watch every avenue of approach. It is possible to arrange so that a 
surprise from an organized force which must travel in the roads can- 
not be effected. But in an affair of this kind it is not an organized 
force that makes the attack. It is made by the regular, every- 
day, ignorant Filipino, ordinarily passing as a friend. Every Fili- 
pino is a boloman, and thus, under threats, it is an easy matter for a 
band of insurgents to gather a large number for any undertaking in 
hand. In arranging for the accommodations of a garrison, it is cus- 
tomary to have the company kitchen at a distance from the quarters. 
That is in the interest of health. It is also customary to have the 
men march down from the quarters to the mess hall, at meal-times. 
The guard is left at the quarters. So are the rifles, in the ordinary 
peaceful towns. In this case the treacherous Filipinos, probably 
entering the town in small parties, aided by a traitorous local mayor, 
hid among the houses, from whence it was an easy matter for them, 
while the men were eating, to get between the mess hall and the 
quarters. That is the way this affair happened, and that is why I 
feel sure in saying that the officers and men of Company C were in 
no wise negligent in their duties. I think if the people of this coun- 
try understood the circumstances in this way, that those things never 
would have been said. I am glad to give my testimony to-day to 
show they were utterly without foundation. 

A great sacrifice has been made, but it must be a satisfaction to 
you as well as myself to know that it was made in a holy cause. The 
attainment of security and respect for our defenceless missionaries 
and travellers in foreign lands is indeed a matter of vital national 
importance, and one which, if need be, the army must be given con- 
trol of. Our campaign in China was fully justifiable on those 
grounds. To thwart and defeat the designs of a few selfish and mer- 



109 

cenary native leaders, to extirpate anarchy, to restore order from con- 
fusion, and ensure a staple, just, and representative government in 
the Philippines is again a holy duty, and we are right in standing for 
what the American nation represents and its principles as embodied 
in our Constitution. The islands have come into our hands by the 
decree of God, and it is the holy duty of the United States and of 
every citizen to uphold and promote the objects of the American 
Constitution in that far-off land. 

Our friends, then, have made a sacrifice in a holy cause. It is 
natural that their families, that their relatives, and we ourselves 
should feel sorrow to-day over our loss ; but beyond the sorrow we 
can feel a satisfaction in the fact that it was given to the members of 
the company, to Edward Avery Bumpus, to Captain Connell, and to 
Major Griswold, to make the sacrifice they have for their country, 
to die a soldier's death, and for us to feel that they have placed their 
lives on those altars which have been consecrated so much with the 
blood of martyrs ; and in the case of Edward Avery Bumpus, to feel 
that he has succeeded to that line of worthy fathers who have also 
sacrificed their lives for the good of the country, a sacrifice which 
every true American should be glad and willing to make. 

Colonel J. M. Lee, 1 who was captain and major of the Ninth 
Infantry for over thirty years, says of Captain Connell, in writ- 
ing to his father : — 

He was not only respected and honored by every one who knew 
him, but he was loved and adored by every officer and man in the 
dear old regiment, the Ninth Infantry. "Tommy Connell," as we all 
delighted to call him, was a favorite. His name was a synonym for 
every quality that goes to make up the highest type of manhood. 
Rare, indeed, has it been my good fortune to see so many virtues com- 
bined in one person as he exemplified in his daily life, — modest, gentle, 
and sympathetic as the dearest woman, he was as brave as a lion. 

It is useless for me to attempt to specify all his good qualities. 
Every noble, every endearing, attribute of character, seems to have 
been fully developed and in vigorous action. As far as it is possible 
for man to be, he was without a fault. He was the very soul of 

1 Colonel Lee's letters were not read at the service, having arrived later, but the 
remainder were. 



no 

honor, and no ignoble act or impulse ever cast a shadow upon his 
resplendent character. It was my good fortune to know him 
intimately. He was a lieutenant in my company (C, Ninth Infantry) 
from the time I took command in 1895 until his promotion to a first 
lieutenancy in 1898. 

As an officer, he was superb in every respect, — of high capacity, 
untiring zeal and devotion, and of steadfast whole-souled loyalty in 
speech and acts. 

His example was such that a thousand might emulate but none 
could surpass him. He was an ideal officer, and the splendor of his 
personal character illumined every act of his official life. He was 
kind and considerate beyond compare, and had a heart overflowing 
with sympathy for one and all. He met every demand of duty " with- 
out fear, favor, or affection " and was the perfect embodiment of justice 
always tempered with Christian charity. 

Colonel Lee in writing to me of my son says: — 

How I wish I had the gift to pay a fitting tribute to the heroic 
officers and men who fell in Samar ! It is not within the capacity of 
orator, poet, or painter to do full justice to the memory of those gal- 
lant spirits who gave their lives as a sacrifice upon the altar of their 
country — upholding the honor of the flag. When the terrible news 
reached me at Fort Leavenworth, I was dazed — stunned. I can find 
no words that express the depth of my sorrow. For nearly forty 
years I have realized the troubles and trials of a soldier's life. You 
well know from your own experience the onerous demands of duty, — 
how a true soldier must always be ready to endure every hardship, 
face every danger, and in the supreme moment lay down his life ; and 
thus your beloved son, my friend and comrade, forever sealed his 
devotion to his country's cause, which was ever his cause. This, too, 
when the warm, generous blood of vigorous manhood was coursing 
through his veins ; this, too, when his future was so bright and radiant 
— so full of buoyant promise. Oh, what a sacrifice ! We are often 
reminded to cherish what some one has said. How can we ade- 
quately cherish what these men did? All earthly honors fall far 
short of what their sacred memory deserves. 

I saw and knew your son in all trying times of a soldier's life. 
He went through all hardships with a soldier's fortitude. On the 



Ill 

bloody field of Tientsin, amidst the dead and the dying, he came 
under my immediate observation and command. He was cool, calm, 
and fearless in the face of what seemed at times certain death. He 
was right in the firing lines, and it was a great satisfaction to me to put 
on record in the War Department a deserved recognition of his con- 
spicuous gallantry by recommending him for a brevet. 

It has always been a maxim of my official and private life — one 
I learned at the knees of a Christian mother — " Be just." At one 
time, as you say, your son seemed to be at a disadvantage, — he was 
not understood, — but I believe that all passed away long ago. It 
was my province to inquire and advise him officially, and when I 
understood the matter, I merely sought to do him even-handed justice. 
It was something of a delicate matter, though not in even the slightest 
degree reflecting upon his honor as a soldier or a man. I know 
what it is to suffer from injustice, and to have my acts and motives 
misinterpreted. 

But, my dear friend, as you say, in the case of your son, " this is 
all wiped out," and I believe it had been forgotten and justice done 
him long before his heroic death. He closed the record of his young life 
and sealed it with his heart's blood. A halo of glory crowns his sacred 
memory, and his name will ever be cherished on the roll of honor of 
the dear old Ninth Infantry, with Lewis, Rockefeller, Kowhler, Lis- 
cum, Connell, and probably a hundred more who have gone down to 
death under the flag since '98. 

" C " company was my old company for several years prior and up 
to the Spanish War, when I was promoted to a majority. I am 
justly proud of its record. I need not dwell upon the terrible 
slaughter in Samar. It was the result of the basest treachery, and in 
no sense due, in my opinion, to any carelessness or neglect on the 
part of the officers. When I first heard the direful news, I knew 
full well from my knowledge of your son and Captain Connell that 
the officers had not escaped. I said to myself and to my wife : " That 
is a mistake. Those officers died right therewith their men." I felt 
sure that there was no abatement in the gallantry of the young 
officers whose courage was so conspicuous in the campaign in China. 

From the many loving and tender messages that have 
been sent, I have gleaned the following: — 



112 

Governor Crane writes : — 

I assure you that were it not for engagements, long since made, 
which compel me to be absent from this city on that day, I should 
attend the meeting and express to you personally, and to the relatives 
and friends of all the brave soldiers who were killed at Samar, my 
deep sympathy with them in their great affliction. 

Our neighbor and friend, Secretary Long, whose recent 
affliction calls for the sincerest sympathy upon our part, sends 
to us this message : — 

I regret that I cannot attend the memorial service to be held on 
Saturday next at Quincy in honor of the young men who died in the 
army and navy during the Spanish War, among whom I count your 
devoted and brave son, who has given his life for his country and 
thus earned its laurel. 

Love of country finds its exemplifications in peace as well as in 
war ; yet there is a pathos and a glory that attend the young hero 
who dies in military service, and that especially appeals to the heart. 
I thank you for giving me an opportunity, even in writing, to add my 
tribute to those which will be paid at the service on Saturday. 

Chief Justice Holmes writes : — 

" I have thought much, and with deep sympathy, on the occasion 
for the meeting. I think, however, that the sorrow is only for us. 
For the young soldier himself I do not grieve. What better can any 
man ask than to die at the height of his powers in a great act of faith ? 
This faith of the soldier who gives his life for his country is the most 
convincing proof that man's destiny is to live and die for ideals. 
Death in battle is the flower of duty. Until government shall mean 
something else than the necessity and determination of society to 
carry out its decrees by force — until society can exist on some other 
foundation than the readiness of men to die for it — the soldier is the 
caryatid that supports the temple. I believe and always shall believe 
that the courage of the soldier is the supreme test of man, his faith 
man's supreme glory. It shows from out the dark as yesterday in a 
sombre churchyard shadowed black with pines I saw the gleam of a 
little flag that fluttered over a grave. Your own deep grief I have shared 



H3 

with the sorrow of a friend for a friend. That must be. But if you 
believe with me, you will not be comfortless, but will be sustained in 
the end by the memory that you have given your best for the best. 

Senator Hoar, who was interested in the original appoint- 
ment of the boy, and who followed his career with much 
interest, says : — 

You have my most affectionate sympathy in the loss of your 
brave boy. 

But the pathos of such an occasion as this is made more 
intense by two letters which have been received, one from the 
widow of Captain Springer, himself killed at Luzon, and who 
was the first officer under whom Lieutenant Bumpus served 
when he entered the regular army, and the other from a lady 
whose son was also in the service and knew Edward. The 
former says : — 

Since seeing the awful truth of your son's death, I have felt I 
must express to you my sympathy. So short a time ago my hus- 
band, Captain Springer, was killed at Liza, that I know what sorrow 
is. A stranger to you, but I knew your son so well, while he was 
here in Plattsburgh. He was in my husband's company and spent 
many hours with us, taking his meals with us until settled. My heart 
has ached for all. Could I only say something to express all I felt, 
but my own heart is still heavy with sorrow. It all seems too cruel, 
and for what ? Extend my kindest regards to one and all the family 
left. 

And this from the other : — 

Since reading of your brave son's death in that dreadful far-off 
country, you and Judge Bumpus have been in my thoughts so con- 
stantly that I must tell you of my deep sympathy, which is heartfelt, 
for I am suffering as you are. My own dear boy was wounded in 
that fearful fight near Liza on June 10, and died from his wounds. 
He and your son were together in Plattsburgh in the Twenty-first 
Infantry. I have a picture of Lieutenant Bumpus which my son left 
in my care when he started for the Philippines two and a half years 
ago. I cannot comfort you, for it is far from me. I can only tell you 
I 



ii4 

my poor broken heart aches for you. I grieve for and with you in 
your great sorrow. When I think of the splendid young lives that 
have been sacrificed in this dreadful war, my faith almost fails me 
and I hardly know what to think. I pray God to help you in this 
bitter hour. Our great sorrow draws me to you and I feel we are 
friends. 

No words can describe the touching distress that sur- 
rounds these letters. 

Among the many sympathetic friends was Captain Wilde 
of the United States Navy, an old schoolmate and friend of 
the boy's father, and who, when the boy was sick at Manila, 
as captain of the famous Oregon, kindly and generously enter- 
tained him. He writes: — 

You have my deepest sympathy in the terrible loss that has come 
to you in the death of your son Edward. I not only took a strong 
liking to him because he was your own, but because of his frank man- 
liness and open honesty, beaming over his handsome face. My wife 
joins with me in expressions of tenderest sympathy. 

The kindly words of Attorney-general Knowlton relate 
so closely to this occasion that I am sure they must be read : — 

He died for his country, the proudest death a man can die. It 
is better to have died so, than not to have lived at all. The tragic 
side will fade as the merciful salve of time dulls its pain, while to 
your latest conscious hour you will thank God that you have been 
honored by being able to give to your country so brave and manly a 
boy. 

Colonel Frye of the First Artillery voices the sentiment 
that 

We of the First Artillery shall treasure the tradition of his faith- 
ful service and of his death, and the regiment will be proud of having 
borne his name upon its rolls, though but for a brief time. 

Dr. F. A. Harris, a lifelong friend of the father, writes : — 
Oh ! the pity of it — but oh ! the pride of it. Again come back 
the words of Horace : — 



H5 

" How can man die better than by facing fearful odds 
For the ashes of his fathers and the altars of his Gods. " 

Another dear friend of both the father and the boy, Judge 
Barker, writes : — 

If I could be with you, my mind would go back to the last inter- 
views with the lieutenant which I had in Boston, just after he had 
joined the army, donned his uniform, and was waiting to bid you fare- 
well and to join his command. I should recall his fine appearance, 
full of youthful, virile vigor, his enthusiasm for his work, his wish to 
do something in service worthy of his forbears and of his country. I 
should recall your own proud and pleased expression when I told you 
of those interviews. I should not forget his brave service in China 
nor his earned promotion, nor the loving care and satisfaction with 
which you followed his career. I should tell of his often repeated 
acts showing that the excitement of military life did not make him 
forget either family or friends. And I should not fail to express the 
thought of all your friends, that if war should spare his life here was 
a youth who, by a father's kindness, had been able to step into the 
career most fitting for him, and who would always stand up manfully 
and with true courage, winning not only rank but esteem. Such a 
life and such a death are precious to you and to his family, and to 
us all. 

From the Papyrus Club comes a noble tribute which only 
time prevents my quoting in whole : — 

He died maintaining the traditions of his fathers ; died wearing 
the uniform of the Republic ; died under the flag of his country ; 
died with the high examples of an honorable ancestry behind him — 
upon the field of honor. A nobler, more heroic, more honorable 
death awaits no man. He heard his country's call and answered it ; 
he gave the full measure of his responsibility and duty to the Repub- 
lic ; and to-day, the son of our friend sleeps sweetly and calmly 
beneath the palms of the islands of the sea — his battle over, the 
storm past — awaiting the final reveille. The stricken father — our 
friend and comrade — sits in a house of sorrow and awaits the slow 
march of time to bring the hour of reunion with his heroic boy. 



n6 

Service 

EDWARD 

When first his deep eyes saw the azure day, 

And his young footsteps down life's garden passed, 

And love and laughter bloomed along his way, 

Who whispered "stand and serve," what held him fast? 

Bound him by all the ties of love and kin, 

To give his eyes, that other sightless eyes 

From out life's highway, might life's roses win, 

And breathe their perfume and their beauty prize ? 

His childhood's service passed at duty's call 

To larger fields, and gallantly he won 

His badge of honor in his country's cause, 

And life and love he counted not at all. 

He stood to serve, or wait, his duty done, 

Nor heeded death, were honor its guerdon. 

CHAUNCEY 

They also serve who only stand and wait, 

And he whose darkened eyes in waiting learned 

Sweetness and patience, strong from waiting turned 

His soul to greater heights — so fate 

Unrolled for him the purpose of his life, 

Its narrowed confines burst by mental strife, 

And azureward his aspirations grew. 

He strove to break the bonds of bonded sense ; 

His soul shone purified, and all intense 

Glowed in his face life's effort — just to wait. 

Who watched the youth his fateful purpose read 

To gain the goal set high, waiting his foil, 

The effort counting not, or heeding toil 

So that the world count not his life as dead. 

M. L. Bumpus. 




EVERETT CHAUNCEY BUMPUS 




Everett Cbaunce\> Bumpus 

Died January 22, 1901, Aged Twenty-eight Years, Three 
Months, and Three Days 

T the time of my son's illness and death, which occurred 
January 22, 1901, I was quite ill myself, and, while 
mending my health, wrote the little screed which is 
here printed. It may be interesting to know that, on account 
of the interest taken in his experience as a blind man, this 
article was published in many places, and I received letters on 
account of the same from all over the world. The method 
adopted by him in obtaining his education, of living alongside 
of people who could see, and so living that he appeared and 
acted like one who had his sight, has been in itself a great 
lesson to many people who have taken a special interest in 
the blind, and to the blind themselves. His insistence, also, 
by his acts, that there should be no distinction made on this 
account, but that, upon the other hand, a blind man must be 
able to give to the world as much as he receives, has been a 
great benefit. It seems to me strange that a simple gentle- 
man like himself should have so lived that his life should have 
cast such a blessed influence, and that out of it has come a 
better knowledge and a larger interest in the blind. 

Hope for the Blind 

The Remarkable Work done by a Blind Student, and the Lesson 
which it teaches to those who see 

The Journal is glad to print this article, part personal 
sketch and part appeal for the fair treatment of the blind, 

117 



n8 

which was written by the Hon. Everett C. Bumpus of Bos- 
ton immediately after the death of his son last week : — 

The life of Everett Chauncey Bumpus (just finished, alas !), who, 
throughout his blindness of twenty-one years, found in it no cause of 
discouragement, but every inducement to be of good cheer, presents 
some interesting phases to those, at least, who look upon the blind as 
fellow-creatures to be treated upon an equality, and not set apart to 
be first pitied, then dreaded, then avoided. 

There were tears in his voice when, recovering from his sickness, 
a child of six, he said, " Mamma, I cannot count my fingers with my 
eyes," but never after that did he utter complaint or show that he felt 
it to be an affliction. He went back to his boyish life as merrily as 
though nothing troubled him, and it took a very lively youngster to 
keep pace with him. It was the same in youth and in manhood. 
There were none in his college days that followed athletics more 
keenly. Wherever there was a boat race or ball match where Har- 
vard was concerned, there he would be found, the most joyous of all 
in victory, the gloomiest in defeat. He had the marvellous instinct to 
follow the game without aid. His senses were so acute that the 
slightest sound availed him, and he seemed to know which boat was 
ahead and who was putting the ball afield. One day when the ball, 
after being hit, was not announced, or, if so, not heard, he said it was 
" foul," and explained that he knew so from the sound the ball made 
upon the bat. 

He entered into physical exercise as much as was possible. He 
made long journeys alone to the West, or anywhere else he liked, and, 
in fact, had in mind, at the time of his death, a journey to the Sand- 
wich Islands, and perhaps beyond. He walked the streets, and did 
whatever he cared to do, as readily and as courageously as though he 
had sight. Sometimes it may have been difficult to do, but he always 
acted as if he felt impelled to do it so that the world might be more 
willing to endure the sight and presence of a blind man. " I can do 
what they see to do " marked his life. 

But that he wrought his way to the Bar is by far the most inter- 
esting phase of his character. We began to read to him his studies 
very early, and put into his hands some primary books of raised let- 
ters. He became so deft with these, and later more important books, 



ii 9 

that he could follow the key as rapidly as I could read aloud. When 
he was about nine years of age he went to the Perkins Institution for 
the Blind, a school and the teachers of which he never tired of prais- 
ing. " They try to make us something more than blocks, although 
some of the old ladies who visit us think that we are nothing but 
playthings," he said to me once. Whenever Mr. Anagnos's name 
was mentioned he would smile and say, " Yes, he puts life into you." 
When he had been there some little time he told me that that was all 
right up to a certain point, but as for himself, he wanted to go to col- 
lege, and wanted to live among people, and go to school where every 
one could see. So we began upon that. 

Professor Sewall and the Thayer Academy existed in Braintree, 
and when this boy knocked the door opened, and there he found 
what turned out to be the most joyous years of his life. How the 
little people gathered about him, and the teachers encouraged him ! 
Then he began to feel that the world was forgetting to shudder at the 
word " blind," and made good the confidence reposed in him. 

His method of study was simple. The raised-letter books are 
limited in number, and that fact should be incessantly brought home 
to the charitable, lest it be forgotten. He got but little aid from these 
from an educational point of view, but depended upon what was read 
to him by others. He caught everything that came, digested, and 
held it. Sometimes he used his typewriter, one made especially for 
the blind, but for the most part he depended upon his memory. It will 
be seen that to prepare for college, and even to undergo daily examina- 
tions at Thayer, was something of an effort, but I don't recall that he 
ever raised any question at home. There he was read to, particularly 
in his examinations for college. He passed, as I recall, without con- 
dition, into and out of college, the Law School, and was admitted to 
the Bar. I have been told that he was much depended upon at the 
Law School for his knowledge of cases and a correct application of 
the principles of the law. For the several years he was at Harvard, 
his education was based upon the lectures and a reader. I do not 
think he ever failed in any examination. 

It used to be such pleasure to read to him. He had the faculty 
of digestion, application, and relation better developed than I knew. 
He had such a knowledge of things picked up everywhere. Any 
question raised as to the authorship of an obscure poem, or essay, or 



120 

the origin of a word, and he was ready to answer. I heard him, sud- 
denly called upon, carry on a discussion where all of his facts were 
verified as to the origin of Prince Arthur's Round Table. 

I am not in any sense speaking of a prodigy. He was a man of 
sincere scholarship, an excellent capacity to work, and a belief, per- 
haps to some extent unconscious, that he came to help clear the field 
of the great and immeasurable prejudice against the blind. He had 
remained in the background. No one ever heard him declaiming as 
to himself, or seeking public attention, but his time was coming fast, 
and if he had but lived, I think that there would have been found no 
greater exponent of the rights of the blind in this country. Here, 
indeed, was a great field. He knew it, and though he had not devel- 
oped his theories in any public way, I think I have caught a hint of 
what he had in his mind. It would have been very much like this : — 

" Stop pitying the blind and learn to respect them. What right 
have you to put them upon any different plane than yourself ? Have 
they not all the natural attributes that you have, except that they 
cannot see, and yet did you ever meet a blind man but who in some 
particular, perhaps in many, was superior to yourself ? They stumble 
in the light, but walk much more erect in the dark than you do. If 
you will give them the same opportunity at your schools, you'll find 
them as good scholars. If you'll encourage them in your higher 
grades of education, you'll find quite as good lawyers, ministers, men 
skilful in some grades of surgery, in teaching, in oratory, in singing, 
and in music, and in nine-tenths of the intellectual and aesthetic 
occupations of life. But to-day, whenever there is any competition, 
what chance has the blind man but a piano tuner, a seller of books, 
etc. ? Whenever he raises his head the world raises its chorus and 
cries out, ' What can a blind man do ? ' It is against this blindness 
of prejudice, which is indeed dreadful, that the fight must be waged." 

For twenty-one years I lived with this gallant fellow. He never 
complained, and I know that the life that he made for himself and 
for others, from any point of view, equalled any man's of his age that 
I know. 

Again I repeat his refrain : " Stop this pity. We don't want it — 
only treat us like human creatures. Forget the distinction. Enter 
into competition with us where prejudice shall not be referee, but 
fair play, and we will chance it out." And his remedy was so simple. 



121 

Let every locality treat and educate its blind as it does all other 
children. Grant them, perhaps, the special opportunity of a higher 
education if qualified. Of course, there would be exceptions to this, 
children where an asylum would be their only refuge ; but the greater 
proportion of blind children could live and be educated at home. 

It would not take very long after this was done before the senti- 
ment of communities would begin to change as to what the blind are 
good for, and it would soon be found that they would do their work 
as efficiently as all others. This surely is illustrated in my son's case ; 
but while this is spoken of as remarkable, it would soon be an every- 
day affair ; with this, the ambition and self-respect of the blind would 
be aroused. The relation between them and the rest of the com- 
munity would become more natural, and a thousand avenues of 
service, now closed to them, would be opened, slowly at first, but in 
the end so that every energetic and bright blind man could find his 
avocation. 

To illustrate, as conditions exist to-day, it will be asked, " What 
can a blind lawyer do ? " and this, in the present condition of affairs, 
would settle the question as against him ; but if one will stop and 
consider it will be seen that he can become a very efficient force in 
his profession, and that at least nine-tenths of the work he can do as 
well as if he had eyes to see. In some particulars, if he has a talent 
in that direction, as, for instance, the argument of facts or law, he 
would have an advantage over the man of equal ability who had the 
sense of sight. So I believe in all professions, and in many trades, 
much can be done with the blind man to put him upon the same 
level as the rest of us, if we will but follow the scheme of treating 
him exactly the same as we treat others. 

It may be said that this is too sanguine a view, but if there were 
to-day, say, twenty-five or fifty men going through the same experi- 
ence that my son did in New England, coming in contact with schools 
and colleges, and being received upon the same plane as other people, 
a public feeling would emanate from this that would be to the greatest 
possible advantage of the blind ; but if, unfortunately, I should be 
wrong in this, it opens up that very serious and sorrowful question 
as to what is to become of the blind in the future. Multiplying as 
rapidly as they do, being taught only a few trades, most of which, I 
am informed, are no longer profitable to the blind, the result of a con- 



122 

tinuation of the present method may be to drive into poverty and 
distress a class of people who might well be helped to be relieved 
from this. I say that the future of the blind is not dependent upon 
asylums or charities, no matter how well directed, but upon putting 
them in a self-respecting atmosphere, so that they will come to aspire 
to the best possible conditions, and then there will be no more pity, 
but respect and mutual aid. 

To conduct such a scheme as this upon a practical basis needs 
no board of trustees, but only a man of heart and brain equal to the 
task. It could be determined as to what length of time any or all 
of the blind should, for primary purposes, be taught in the asylums, 
and then to what extent they should be aided by local conditions and 
take rank in different schools. I know of but one man in New 
England, and of him my son always spoke in the highest terms, that 
has the information and courage necessary to put into practical use 
changes of the kind above indicated. He himself might not agree 
that such a radical change would be for the best interest, but I am 
sure he would be willing to investigate, and I have confidence enough 
in what I saw done in my son's career to believe that the thing can 
be carried out to the great advantage of the blind, and certainly 
Mr. Anagnos will not let any of his preconceived theories stand in 
the way of doing the best he could for the blind. It needs some 
legislation, but that can readily be obtained. It all comes back to a 
simple proposition : Give the blind man the same chance we have in 
our schools and our lives, and, instead of looking upon the blind as 
an outside class, we would come to believe them as of ourselves. 



MAR 29 1902 



